


Like a Phoenix From the Ash

by fallenangel860



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dark, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Parent/Child Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:53:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 16
Words: 51,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27453802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallenangel860/pseuds/fallenangel860
Summary: Zuko got a lot of things from his mother, her eyes, her hair, her heart, but those things aren't held in high regard in the Fire Nation palace. After his mother vanishes and his father ascends the throne, Zuko has to do his best to be the prince his father expects him to be, but since when was his best ever good enough. Without his mother's protection, things go from bad to worse and at 13 he ends up disfigured for the crime of caring too much.This fic is a dark divergent au where Zuko is burned but never banished and things take a turn for the worst. Finally on the day of black sun, Zuko decides to stand up for himself and leave the palace to join the Avatar and defeat his father.         Somewhat a retelling, but entirely from Zuko's perspective.
Comments: 59
Kudos: 308





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please note the tags. Nothing is particularly explicit in this fic, but the themes are very dark and heavy. 
> 
> This is also my first time writing a fic in third-person limited so please bear with me and don't be overly harsh if some things aren't as smooth as I usually try for. Also, this is my first time writing a lengthy fic. I have the majority of it handwritten and it is nearly complete, but getting myself to sit down and actually type up what I've written can be a bit of a bitch so there will be no set update schedule, though I will try my best to get out a chapter every 1 or 2 weeks (though the longer chapters might take longer). I also do try to reread and fix things as I type them up, but it's always possible that I may miss something from a previous chapter and I don't have a beta so notes in the comments are fine, but do try to cut me some slack and not be too harsh. 
> 
> Finally, I hope that I manage to portray the subject matter with all the seriousness and gravity it deserves. I have no personal experience, but I have tried to do a little research on the effects of certain traumas. This is not an angst/comfort fic. There isn't going to be any magical fix it to the trauma, but I do intend for there to be some understanding and healing by the end and hopefully what is there doesn't seem too fast or unrealistic.

Zuko is eleven when his entire world changes overnight. Lu Ten is killed in battle and his uncle has abandoned the siege on Ba Sing Se. His father requests an audience with the Firelord and he and Azula hide in the shadows and watch him petition for his uncle's place in the line of succession after they've been dismissed. He runs before he can hear any more. His mother wakes him in the night and gives him a hug and tells him not to forget who he is. He doesn't understand. He's half asleep and he doesn't know why she's waking him up or what she's saying. When she leaves, he falls back asleep as if nothing had happened. In the morning when he wakes he isn't even sure that it was anything other than a strange dream. That morning Azula tells him that their mother is gone. Zuko doesn't believe her. It's harder to believe that she's lying when she tells him that grandfather has passed away. When he gets angry and yells at her she just smirks and asks if he thinks mom is going to make her leave him alone. The way she says it makes Zuko's stomach twist and he runs out into the garden following Azula's taunting, desperate to prove his sister wrong. His mother would be there as she often was on lazy afternoons relaxing by the pond feeding turtle-ducks He finds only his father's towering figure standing with his back to Zuko at the edge of the water. Dread settles heavy in Zuko's stomach. Horror fills his eyes. “Where's mom?” His voice is small as he chokes out the question. He never receives an answer. Instead, his father looks at him with cold, hard eyes. The only words he speaks, “you look like your mother.” There's no warmth in his words. They are spoken with disdain. Another mark against Zuko in a long list of them. Father had said the words with venom, but Zuko clings to them. Later that day, Firelord Azulon is cremated and Ozai becomes Firelord. Zuko knows it's wrong. He heard how angry his grandfather had been when his father had asked for the crown, but there's no one to tell his secret to. That night Zuko curls into himself in front of his mirror, still dressed in his funeral whites, and searches for his mother in his features. It's something he does time and time again when his father lashes out or when Azula is particularly cruel. He searches for his mother in the mirror and pretends, for just a moment, that she is there with him, comforting him. It's all he has left.  


When Zuko is thirteen, things go from bad to worse. He tries to prove himself to his father in a war meeting. He's sick of being a failure in his father's eyes. He knows that as the first-born he will be Firelord one day, so he's eager to learn as much as he can, to show his father that he will make him proud. It goes horribly wrong, as things so frequently do for Zuko, and he makes the biggest mistake of his life. He speaks when he should stay silent, argues battle tactics with an experienced general. He thinks that showing his care for his people will impress his father, but he should know better by now. He's forced into an Agni Kai for his mistake, to defend his honor. He messes that up too. He prostrates himself at his father's feet and begs for mercy and forgiveness. He's denied. He should have known better than to make the same foolish mistake twice. He looks up at his father with tears in his eyes and his father looks down at him with disgust. “You will learn respect, and suffering will be your teacher.” Those words will haunt Zuko forever as his father cups his cheek and then slides his hand over Zuko's eye and sets it aflame. Zuko screams, tries to pull away, but there's a hand in his hair holding him in place so that he can't escape the searing pain that engulfs the left side of his face. He must pass out, because he wakes up sometime later in the infirmary. His hair's been shorn down to the scalp. He reaches up to find that his phoenix tail is gone too, and it fills him with a sense of despair. There's a thick bandage covering half of his face, obscuring his vision on that side and everything looks blurry from sleep and maybe something else in the other. He's groggy and half out of it. Pain is beginning to seep back into the edges of his consciousness but before he can really process anything someone forces a cup of something bitter and herbal to his lips and makes him drink. The world falls away and he drifts back into slumber.  


After two weeks in the infirmary, he's deemed out of danger of infection and no longer needs constant care. He's allowed to return to the palace proper, though he must go to the infirmary twice a day to have his bandages changed and the healing wound attended to. His father demands that he resume to his lessons at once. Zuko doesn't argue. A month goes by and Zuko hasn't seen his uncle. He works up the courage to ask his father one night during dinner. His father glares at him with narrowed eyes. A wave of fear washes over Zuko. “You're no longer permitted to see him. I dislike the effect that his presence has you. He's made you too soft.” Zuko is devastated. His mouth drops open as sorrow and grief crash over him in waves. His father flicks a cool glance in his direction as he continues eating. He pauses. “Is there a problem, Zuko?” There is no mistaking the warning in his tone. It clearly says 'there better not be a problem, and if there is you will be punished accordingly'. Zuko swallows down his emotions as much as he can, “No, Sir.” The corner of Ozai's lip curls up in a cruel smirk. “Good. I'd hate to have to discipline you for your obstinance.” Zuko knows he's lying.  


It takes over a month for his eye to fully heal. Once his bandages are off, Zuko is instructed to resume his fire-bending training. He is afraid of the flames. His fire is weak. He flinches when his instructors demonstrate attacks. He can't see properly out of his left eye. He's lost much of his peripheral vision because of the scar tissue which forced his eye into a permanent squint and his sight is blurry on that side. The first time his father comes to the training grounds to observe his practice, he is furious. Zuko stumbles during a turn and falls in a tangle of limbs. He's yanked to his feet by his father's iron grip. Zuko shrinks back in fear. He almost thinks he sees a glimmer of satisfaction in his father's visage but he must be mistaken, all he sees now is disappointment and anger, the same things he always sees when Ozai looks at him. “You can't even bend properly. You're useless. You should thank the spirits that I don't cast you from the palace entirely,” he snarls as his hand collides with the side of Zuko's face. His words cut Zuko deep to his core, more painful than the backhand, and he swears to himself that he will do better.  


Zuko pushes himself harder than he ever has. He's more determined than ever to make his father proud of him. He trains for hours each day to strengthen his bending and overcome his fear. He learns to compensate for his compromised eyesight and studiously works himself until each turn, jump, kick, and punch is graceful and precise. His father watches him practice and begrudgingly declares him adequate. Zuko allows himself to hope that its possible to prove himself worthy in his fathers eyes if he only tries hard enough. His father stares at him long and hard. His gaze lingers on the scar tissue that mars his face and his lip curls in disgust. Zuko forces himself to stand tall and impassive under the scrutiny rather than shrinking away like he wants to. “You still have too much of your mother in you,” he sneers and walks away. Zuko is at odds with himself. He's secretly thrilled to know that he's his mothers son, but he also knows that Ozai sees it as a detriment rather than a compliment. That night, for the first time since the Agni Kai, Zuko sits in front of his mirror and searches for his mother's face. She's harder to see now with his short cropped hair and the mess that is his left side, but if he covers it with his hand and ignores his shorn head he can still see his mother in his eye and his cheekbone and the tilt of his smile.  


Five months after the bandages come off, one month after his father last attended his training, Zuko is summoned to his fathers private chambers in the early evening. He's nervous. His father has never requested him to come to his rooms before and Zuko knows in his gut that whatever the reason for his attendance, it's nothing good. The chamber doors loom before him. Zuko takes a deep breath and steels himself as one of the guards outside knocks before pushing the heavy door open and granting him entry. Ozai thanks him and dismisses the man back to his post. The doors close heavily behind Zuko, leaving him standing at military ease just over the threshold.  


His father sets aside the scroll he'd been reading. He doesn't bother to look at Zuko when he addresses him. “It occurs to me that I was, perhaps, too absent when you were younger. My inattention allowed you to cling to your mothers skirts far too much. Her and your uncle's influence have made you soft and it seems impossible to rectify that no matter how hard I try.” Zuko is expressionless as his fathers hateful barbs dig into him. Ozai rises. He's clad only in a pair of fine linen trousers and an open sleeping robe. Zuko has hardly ever seen his father so under-dressed, the only exception being during their long gone forays to Ember Island. It seems somehow indecent and he feels the need to avert his eyes. “You have your mother's heart,” the man continues. He makes it sound like something distasteful. “Such a pity. A heart such as hers isn't meant for politics. It takes a strong heart and an iron will to be a ruler, Zuko, neither of which you possess. I am removing you from the line of succession.” Zuko feels like he's been punched. He's tried so hard to make himself be the man his father wanted him to be, and it didn't matter. “Tomorrow your sister will be announced as my chosen heir to the throne.”  


Zuko should have seen this coming. He's always known that his father favors Azula, but he'd never entertained the idea that his father would strip him of his birthright. The reality of it floors him. “But... father...” The words come out unbidden and his eyes flash wide as soon as he realizes what he'd done.  


His fathers glare hardens. “Do you dare to question my judgment?” Zuko bows his head in deference and chokes out a no. The Firelord smiles. It's devoid of warmth and chills Zuko to his core. Ozai steps out of the darker shadows and into the flickering lamplight before his son. He reaches out and catches Zuko's chin in his hand and forces the boy to look him in the eyes. The action makes Zuko flinch and causes his breath to catch. It's too similar to his father's actions in the Agni Kai arena for his liking. This time, his father doesn't burn him. Later, Zuko will wish that he had. It would have been more bearable. Ozai runs his thumb over the rough scar tissue below Zuko's cheek and studies his young son's face. “I have no use for soft hearts in my court. But... you may still yet have your uses elsewhere.” For a moment Zuko is hopeful. Whatever task his father sets him, he will do. He can prove himself. “You have your youth, and you still have your mother's beauty... marred by your insolence though it is.”  


Zuko's heart beats wildly. He senses danger here, but doesn't understand what it is or what he needs to say or do to protect himself from it, not that he's ever been particularly good at that anyway. He swallows down his terror and nods. “Yes, sir.” He says nothing else. It's best to remain silent he supposes. Once again, he's wrong.  


His fathers smile turns from cold to cruel. “Your mother is gone because of you, you know.” Zuko does know, the same way he knows that he's the cause of all of the horrible things that have happened in his life, having it thrown back into his face still stings and he can feel his composure beginning to slip. “It's because of you that my bed has been cold these past three years.” Ozai circle's his son like a wolf shark, coming to a stop behind him. He rests his hands heavily on Zuko's slender shoulders. “It's only fitting that you should be the one to warm it again. It's about all you're good for, after all.” The dread finally settles on Zuko who is finally aware of the danger. He's not so naive not to understand what's being said. He wants to escape and hide, but he's frozen in place. His panic grips him firmly even as his father's hands fall away. “Remove your robes.” The command rings in his ears but Zuko won't, can't make his limbs move to either run or fulfill his father's wishes. He doesn't want to do this. He tries to say something, to argue against what's being demanded of him, but he barely manages to stammer. A hand like a great dragons talons grips his shoulder with bruising force. His father's voice rumbles threateningly. “You dare to disobey your Firelord?” Zuko trembles. Bile rises in his throat. He doesn't trust himself to speak. What good would it do? What good has it ever done in the past? He shakes his head almost imperceptibly. The hand disappears and the faceless voice behind him barks out, “get on with it then.”  


With clumsy fingers and shaking limbs Zuko does as he's commanded. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine he's in one of his stories, a brave prince held captive by a dangerous spirit waiting to be rescued, but no rescue will come for him. He's cold despite the warm night air as he stands as still as he can, clad only in his trousers and slippers. There's the unmistakable slither of silk falling to the floor behind him and hot hands clamp around his upper arms, pushing him forward, marching him toward the large bed in the center of the room. He's bent over the edge, his face pressed into the mattress and his hands fisted into the blood red sheets. When he is fourteen, Zuko's last vestiges of innocence are brutally stripped from him. He cries as it happens. Afterward, Ozai tosses his robes at his feet and dismisses him. Zuko pulls them on as quickly and neatly as he can manage, his eyes never leaving the floor, and turns to leave. Ozai calls out to him as he reaches the door. “You speak of this to no one, do you understand?”  


Zuko's voice is rough and broken. “Yes.” He doesn't have to be told. Why would he want anyone to know of his shame? He doesn't see the cruel satisfaction on Ozai's face as he leaves.  


Zuko is fourteen and he feels like he's been scraped hollow and raw. He feels empty and numb, except for the painful ache in his backside, and in the morning it will all come back to him in an overwhelming rush of guilt and shame and humiliation. For now, he holds his head high and pretends that nothing has happened. The guards don't react when he leaves. Zuko wonders if they know. It seems impossible for them not to. He doesn't go back to his own rooms right away. He slips unnoticed into the baths and scrubs his skin raw under too hot water. In his room he covers the mirror. He doesn't want to look for the traces of his mother in his face. He's afraid that he'll look and see disgust and disappointment where once he could pretend to see her kindness and love for him. He changes his clothes and pulls the blankets tightly around his shoulders like a shield and wonders what he had done wrong to deserve this.  


He avoids Azula as much as he can. He can't stand her taunting and doesn't want to hear it. She'd been insufferable after her public announcement as heir apparent, a torment that Zuko could hardly bear after the events of the previous night. He's kept his distance ever since. He's pulled away from Mai too. They keep up appearances at official banquets and functions where he's required to attend with her but he doesn't see much of her outside of them. He blames it on his increased workload, all of his time is consumed by training and lessons, he simply doesn't have the free time to mingle and go on dates the way they used to. In truth, he doesn't want to taint her and he can't help the way his skin crawls when she lays her hand on his shoulder or back or presses a kiss to his cheek. He's sure she is suspicious. He knows she's smart enough to know that he's making excuses to avoid her, but he also knows that whatever suspicions she's come up with they are likely nowhere near the truth of the matter and he would like to keep it that way. Each night he retires to his rooms and prays to Agni or any spirit at all who might listen that the Firelord doesn't call on him.  


Over the next two years his education turns to military strategy and tactics and law and politics. He may have been removed from the immediate line of succession, but he is still a member of the royal family and he's still expected to have a knowledge of politics for whatever future career he's deemed worthy of. When he doesn't have lessons he trains himself to be a fighter. He masters the dual dao and stealth and he pushes himself to near exhaustion with his fire-bending training. It's no longer about impressing the Firelord. The very idea puts a sour taste in his mouth. Now, excelling at bending is born from a different drive, the desire to never feel weak again. He knows that he'll never be able to refuse the Firelord, the very laws of the Fire Nation command him to obey and he has always been too terrified to refuse his demands in any case, but he won't be defenseless against anyone else. He thinks, if he's lucky he'll be sent away on a military campaign and he'll finally be free of the hell that is his life in the palace. In his heart he thinks, when has he ever been lucky? He hasn't, but Zuko can't help but to cling to the hope. In public, Zuko plays the part of the loyal, obedient prince. When he's alone he passes through the halls like a shadow, a form without substance, empty.  


When Zuko is sixteen, news of the Avatar's return reaches Caldera. Privately, Zuko allows himself to hope that the boy will defeat the Firelord. Ozai sends his most trusted commander, a ruthless brute of a man named Zhao, to capture him. Several months and a promotion later a few battered ships from Zhao's fleet limp into port and deliver news of their crushing defeat in the North. The news pricks up Zuko's ears and he sees it as a sign that maybe his prayers are finally being answered, until the second half of the missive is read. General Iroh had joined Zhao's fleet as an adviser and had stood against the Fire Nation during the decisive battle. Zhao had been killed and the Avatar and his companions had escaped. Iroh is officially declared a traitor and Azula is sent to capture him and return him to the Fire Nation for punishment. Zuko's heart sinks. He hopes she'll fail, but she's never failed at anything. Near the end of spring, Azula returns with their uncle in chains and declares that Ba Sing Se has fallen and the Avatar is dead. Zuko's hope dies with him. That night, Ozai calls on him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, finally introducing the Gaang. I just want you all to keep in mind that because Zuko hasn't been chasing them and because he was never involved with the incident in the Crystal Catacombs, Katara's not going to have the same distrust and issues with him that she did in the show. She's going to be a bit more cautious than Aang or Toph, but she won't have the anger that she did in the show. I hope this follows the standard that I've set.

It's the day of black sun and Zuko is planning his escape. Azula and his father are safely hidden away in the bunkers beneath the city. Zuko should be there too, but he's learned to be stealthy. He slips away, unnoticed, and sneaks back into the palace while the imperial guard is taking position below and the city guard are busy fortifying the Royal Plaza. They are expecting an invasion, the perfect distraction to provide Zuko with the cover he needs to disappear. He leaves his princely robes and armor behind. It will only weigh him down and make him stand out in the countryside. He wears only a simple traveling tunic and trousers and a pair of sturdy boots. His hair has regrown since the Agni Kai. It's not nearly so long as it had been, only just long enough to pull into a messy topknot. He can't bring himself to cut it again. He's not severing his ties to his nation, only his family. Instead, he unties the ribbon binding it up and lets it fall around his face, grazing his chin and shoulders. He straps his dao to his back and shoulders his pack. The palace and the surrounding city are empty. There will be no one to see him go. He reaches the doors to the main hall just as they burst open with a powerful gust of wind. 

The Avatar stands before him, staff ready to strike. Zuko's eyes widen in awe. The Avatar's eyes fix on him. “Where's Firelord Ozai?” 

Just hearing the name makes his stomach clench uncomfortably and plays flashes of memories through his mind that he'd rather forget. Zuko pushes it all aside. This is an opportunity. “He's not here. The royal family has evacuated.” The Avatar gives a shout of frustration and turns, likely intending to regroup with the invasion party and deliver the bad news. “Wait!” The Avatar pauses and looks over his shoulder at Zuko. “Take me with you.” This wasn't part of Zuko's original plan, but maybe for once luck is on his side. 

The Avatar's eyes narrow with suspicion. “Why? Who are you?” 

Zuko is desperate. He lies. “I'm a servant in the palace. I can help you, but you have to promise to take me with you. I can't stay here!”

His desperation must show because it only takes the Avatar a moment of consideration. The Avatar jerks his head, beckoning Zuko over to him. “Hold on to me. I'll fly you to my friends and we can figure things out from there.” 

It's as good an offer as any. Even if the Avatar only takes him as far as the gates it will be faster than he could travel by foot. He awkwardly wraps his arms around the the young Avatar's bony shoulders. For the first time it hits him just how young the Avatar really is. He's no more than a boy. Zuko has a moment to be thankful that he'd managed to evade capture and that Azula had been wrong about his death before the ground falls away and he's lurching into the sky. His heart is in his throat as he soars over the city, clinging tightly to a child for fear of falling. The ride is short and before he knows it, the Avatar lands and Zuko's feet are safely back on solid ground. They're in the midst of a group of equally young children, all dressed for war, while mere yards away a battle is raging as troops push further into the city toward the royal palace. All eyes settle on Zuko... well, all but two which are pale green and clouded over... unseeing. They all take up battle stances.

“He isn't there.” The disappointment and frustration is evident in the Avatar's voice.

Zuko isn't sure why the Avatar is ignoring his companions obvious unease, but figures he can dispel the tension by giving them information he knows they'll want. “There's a bunker in the old lava tunnels under the city. The Firelord will be there.” The eyes on him narrow but the girl with the cloudy eyes simply nods and they relax their stances. 

A dark skinned boy clad in blue and wearing a helmet shaped like a wolfs head turns to the Avatar. “We still have a few minutes before the eclipse. We can retreat now or we can try to find this bunker and take out the Firelord. It's up to you Aang. 

There's a look of fierce determination on the Ava... Aang's face. “We have to try.” His friends nod in silent agreement. Aang turns to Zuko. “Can you take us there?”

Zuko pales, not that they notice considering how naturally pale he is. “No.” He's adamant on this. It's taken him this long to get this far. He won't go back now. He can't risk being trapped in the city once the eclipse is over. “I can tell you how to get there but I can't go back.” Aang nods and Zuko instructs them as best he can. Zuko stays with the Avatar's bison while the group rushes off to face the man that Zuko is too afraid to. As the minutes tick by he wonders if they made it. The eclipse comes and goes and he begins to worry when they still haven't appeared. He's ready to leave on his own when they finally return several minutes after the sun's reemerged. Zuko watches alongside them as war balloons and airships take to the skies and head straight for the harbor and the submarines docked there. They rush to join their comrades to decide a course of action and Zuko runs after them. The difficult decision is made to retreat and leave their fathers and older comrades in arms behind. There are tearful goodbyes as the younger members of the invasion force are loaded into the bison's saddle. The heartfelt displays of love and loss are too difficult for Zuko to watch. He looks away. Once the others are settled in their places and the only ones left on the ground are the Avatar and the two water tribe siblings, Zuko digs his hands into the bison's thick fur and begins to haul himself up. 

“Where do you think you're going?” Zuko looks over his shoulder to see the water tribe boy scowling at him. “You aren't coming with us.”

He jumps down, heart pounding in his chest. They don't have time for this argument. They all need to get out of here now! Zuko needs to get out now! He forces himself to stay calm and seeks out the Avatar. “You said you would take me with you. You gave me your word. You can't leave me here!” Zuko's aware that his calm demeanor is cracking and he's nearly yelling but he can't help it right now, not when he's so close to being free of this place. He's already stayed too long and there's no way he'll get far enough on foot now with the city crawling with soldiers and guards. 

The Avatar looks between Zuko and his ally. “He's right, Sokka. I said he could come with us. It wouldn't be right for me to go back on my word like that.”

The water tribe boy isn't swayed. He crosses his arms and turns an angry, mistrustful glare on Zuko. “He's Fire Nation, Aang. We don't know anything about him. He could be a spy for all we know.”

Zuko doesn't have the chance to argue before the Avatar is countering his point. “Just because he's Fire Nation doesn't mean he's a bad person. He's just a kid like us. Besides, he did tell us about the Firelord's secret bunker.

The water tribe boy, Sokka, is unrelenting. “Yeah, and the Firelord wasn't even there. It was a trap. Face it Aang, this guy's not your friend. Now come on, we have to go.”

The fighting is getting closer as the City Guard push the invaders back and advance on their position. The Avatar, Aang Zuko corrects himself, looks like he's going to keep arguing but he doesn't get the chance. The small earthbender with the milky eyes leans over the edge of the saddle and shouts down at them. “Will you two dunderheads stop your bickering? We don't have time for this. Sparky, get in. We can figure out what to do with him after we get out of here.”

The airbender nods. “She's right. We need to leave now. We can deal with it later.”

No one has to tell Zuko twice. He's up the bison's back and pulling himself over the edge of the saddle before he even hears Sokka's unhappy but relenting, “Fine.” The boy is jumps in a moment later, sitting across from him with his sword resting on his lap as though he thinks Zuko's going to leap up and attack at any moment. The Avatar makes three giant leaps, seating himself between the animal's enormous horns and taking the reins. With a shouted command from the tattooed boy, the animal thumps its tail twice and they lift into the sky. The others eye Zuko suspiciously, wary of the strange fire nation teen suddenly thrust into their midst but Zuko pays them no mind. He's too relieved to finally be leaving Ozai and the palace behind. The only thing he cares about is how much distance they're putting between themselves and the capital. Flying on the bison isn't nearly as terrifying as flying while clinging to Aang for safety and Zuko sinks against the saddle, head thrown back, relieved. 

As time drags on, muted conversation starts up around him but no one speaks to him directly. He's fine with that. The boy across from him never stops watching him though and Zuko's eyes slide nearly closed, fully intent on ignoring him. Zuko figures he must have dozed off at some point because he startles as the bison lands, jostling him from his nap. A check of the sun's position tells him they've been flying for several hours. There's no way for Zuko to know which island they're on or if they're even still in the Fire Nation. The children clamber to the ground. Zuko takes note of his surroundings as he disembarks. They've landed in a large field on the outer edge of the island and there's a forest off in the distance. The Avatar lands lightly on his feet and informs them that they'll have to walk the rest of the way. 

The water tribe boy tries to argue once more, tries to tell the Avatar that they can't just bring Zuko to their hideout. Zuko understands. He even agrees that questioning him before taking him any further is the smart thing to do, not that he's going to point that out. It wouldn't matter if he did. The Avatar has his own points to make. They're in an open field, the fire nation has air power, if they interrogate him here, they'll be easily spotted by any overhead patrols. In the end, Aang's argument wins out. 

The walk is long and there isn't one of them whose energy isn't flagging. They stop near the edge of a ravine and the earthbender declares that they've arrived. Zuko looks around in confusion. There's nothing as far as the eye can see aside from the edge of the forest to their left. The others seem equally perplexed until Aang says she's right. 

The temple lies beneath their feet, tucked away in the side of the cliff away from prying eyes. They remount the bison and descend down. As the temple comes into view, Zuko's breath catches in awe. The structure is possibly the most magnificent thing he's ever seen. Even in its partially ruined state, the temple is grand and curious, pagodas and temple halls all carved upside down into the face of the cliff itself. They land on a platform with a towering statue of a female monk carved in stark relief at its rear. Zuko wanders over to study it as the others disembark. The Avatar's voice cuts through his amazement and snaps him back to the situation at hand. “We still have to talk to you.” Zuko faces them, noting that the only people around are the water tribe kids, the earthbender, and the Avatar himself. The others must have gone off somewhere, or been asked to leave for however long it takes them to decide what to do with him. 

Zuko's been expecting this since they left Caldera. He sits, stiff backed and proper, in front of the carving, the Avatar and his friends creating a semi circle around him. He doesn't react. He's gotten good at putting on a mask of indifference in public. The little earthbender girl flops to the ground on his left, just beyond the edge of his shadowy vision. Instinct tells him to move away and keep her in his limited sight. His years of training and refusal to show weakness hold him in place. Still, he turns his head to see her better. She's frowning, blankly staring straight ahead. Knowing she can't see him any better than he can see her is somewhat comforting and he relaxes. The Avatar is positioned off to his right which leaves the two water tribe siblings glaring directly at him. They think they're being menacing, he realizes and refrains from chuckling to himself. They aren't half as scary as Azula, not even a quarter as scary as the Firelord. The dark skinned boy, Sokka, Zuko recalls, pulls a jet black sword from a scabbard strapped to his back and levels it at him threateningly. “Ok, listen up. We're going to ask you some questions and you're going to answer them. Got it?”

Zuko nods in acquiescence. He hopes that this doesn't come down to a fight. If it does, he's put himself at a disadvantage. He figures he could probably still take them if he needs to defend himself, at least enough to get away if he needs to, but he hopes it won't it to come to that. “First thing's, first. Give up your swords.” Zuko's hand flies protectively to the hilt of his dao. He'd forged them himself, practiced with them every chance he could. They're almost as much a part of him as his bending is. The movement sets the group on edge. The water tribe girl uncorks a water skin at her hip, a bender then, and the Avatar takes a defensive stance. The boy holding the sword rushes forward, the cold hard steel of his blade resting at Zuko's throat. One quick thrust and Zuko won't have to think about the future or this world again. 

He slowly lowers his hand, making a concerted effort to show that he's not a threat to them. “I don't want to fight you.” His words alone are ineffectual. With steady hands he unties the thong strapping his dao to his back and sets his sheath on the ground between them. 

Without lowering his blade, Sokka darts a foot out and slides them toward him and out of Zuko's reach. “Ok. Now who are you?”

The non-bender's interrogation skills leave a lot to be desired, but Zuko's not about to get into the finer points of inquisition with him. “My name is Lee.” He isn't sure how they would react if they knew his true identity and it's in his best interest to ingratiate himself to them before they learn that little fact. “I was a servant in the palace.” Sword-boy scrutinizes him. 

Sokka isn't the one to refute his claims though. He's surprised when he hears the the earthbender to his left speak. “That's a lie. Try again. And no lying this time.” 

Zuko furrows his brow. He's sure he didn't do anything to give himself away. He'd been practicing for so long. “I am. I swear!” Maybe with just the right amount of desperation he can sell it. “I served the Firelord, but he's a cruel man. I couldn't stay any longer. You have to believe me!”

The girl perks up a brow like he's said something vaguely interesting. “Well. At least it's not all lies. The last part might be true, but you're still lying about who you are.” The Avatar is starting to look uncertain and the girl has already has a stream of water ready to strike. The boy with the sword to his throat looks like he's one wrong word away from killing him on the spot. “I'll give you one more chance and don't bother trying to lie again. I'll be able to tell.”

Zuko takes a deep breath and swallows hard. He doesn't know how she knows, but he's not willing to see if he can make it work a third time. He's better off not pushing his luck, it's probably already run out. Still, he's curious. “What makes you think I'm lying?”

“That's for us to know and you not to find out,” Sokka says. “Besides, you're clothes are a dead giveaway.”

That throws Zuko off. He expected them to just ignore the question, but what did his clothes have to do with anything? “What's wrong with my clothes?” It slips out by accident and he wants to slap himself for it.

“They're a bit nice for a servant,” the water tribe boy answers with a shrug. 

Zuko is speaking again before he can think better of it. “What makes you such an expert?”

“I like shopping and I've spent some time in the Earth King's palace. Servants don't wear silk. Now, who are you really?”

Zuko braces himself. He suspects they won't like his answer. He's ready to move and mentally and prepares for a fight: dodge the sword first, kick out his knee, fire blast at the Avatar to keep him off balance, avoid the waterbender, grab his swords if he can, and run. “My name is Zuko, Prince of the Fire Nation,” he falters awkwardly, “uh, well, probably not anymore.” As expected, they don't take the news that they're harboring the Fire Prince well. 

“What?!” The water tribe boy jerks in surprise jabbing the tip of his sword into the delicate flesh of Zuko's throat. Zuko reels back, slamming his head into the wall, before it can do any more damage and presses a hand to his neck. It comes away bloody, but not terribly so, just a small scratch then. Sokka rounds on the Avatar. “You kidnapped the heir to the dragon throne?”

Aang has the decency to at least look sheepish. “How was I supposed to know he was the Prince?”

Sokka returns his attention to Zuko who hasn't moved. So far they haven't actually attacked, so he's willing to see how this plays out before he does anything that could set them against him. The water tribe boy looks thoughtful before becoming excited. “Maybe we can use him as a hostage. We can ransom him back to the Firelord for the release of some of our troops.”

“No!” Zuko doesn't even realize how loud he shouts. Blood is pounding in his ears. His heart is beating so frantically in his chest that it feels like it's trying to escape. 

He starts when a small hand clamps around his left wrist. “Calm down, Sparky.” The blind earthbender sounds genuinely concerned. 

He pulls away. He's too on edge to school his features or try to be rational now. The fear is written all over his face, he's sure of it, but he's too far gone to care. How can he when he's gotten this far and now they're talking about sending him back? “No.” His voice at least is steady. “Anything the Firelord promises you, he'll ignore once he has me. I'd rather die than go back so long as Ozai is the Firelord. If you try to use me as a bargaining chip, I'll be dead before he can claim me. You can't barter with a corpse. Besides, you're assuming he would even want me back. I left with the Avatar. Willingly or not, in his eyes that would be treason. It's not like he needs me. I might be the Prince but I'm not the heir to the throne. He's already named Azula as the next in line.” The group looks stunned. He guesses that they didn't know that particular fact, or maybe they just weren't expecting him to threaten to take his own life over being their pawn. It wouldn't be such a shock if they knew the kind of man Ozai truly is. He looks at the Avatar. “Let me stay. I can teach you firebending. I can help you defeat the Firelord.”

The earthbender at his side reclines against the wall with her arms crossed casually in front of her. “For what it's worth, he's being sincere.”

The other three share a glance. Sokka sheathes his sword and crosses his arms. His eyes are narrowed and he's staring at Zuko like he's a puzzle he can't quite figure out. “So you're saying that you'd betray your own father to help us? Why? I mean, don't get me wrong, we appreciate the offer, but it doesn't really make you seem like the most trustworthy guy if you're willing to turn on your own family like that.”

Zuko's eyes darken. He thinks if Sokka had been in his position, he'd do the same thing. “The Firelord hasn't been my father in a long time. He doesn't deserve the respect or loyalty of the Fire Nation and he certainly doesn't deserve anything from me.” Zuko tries to concentrate on his breathing the way uncle had shown him all those years ago. He can feel himself slipping into a dark place. 

Sokka simply shrugs. “Good enough for me.” He looks to Aang, eyebrow raised in question.

Aang studies him for a moment. “Toph, what do you think?”

Zuko has to turn his head a bit to see her. She hasn't moved at all. “Sparky's good. I like him,” she declares with an enthusiasm and a toothy grin that no one has ever had for Zuko. It shocks him. “You can trust him. Aside from his crappy lies about being a servant, he's been truthful so far.”

Aang turns wordlessly to the waterbender. “I'm not sure I like this. I trust Toph, but I still don't quite trust him. Still, you need a firebending teacher Aang and right now he's our only option. I suppose we don't have much of a choice.”

The Avatar nods and turns, beaming, to Zuko. “It's settled then. Welcome to the group, Zuko.”

Zuko isn't sure how he's supposed to respond to that, so he does so the way he's been taught. He stands and bows respectfully to the Avatar, the bow of an equal. He returns the Avatar's grin with a tentative half smile of his own. He can do this. He can teach the Avatar firebending so that he can defeat the Firelord. Maybe then the memories of the things he'd done to Zuko would finally fade and stop haunting him. 

Zuko follows as Sokka leads him down the corridor from an open air courtyard that the others have decided would serve as their campsite. The younger boy ducks his head into a room and comes back out with what Zuko thinks is an attempt at an amiable smile plastered across his face. He gestures grandly at the open doorway and bows at the waist, “your room, your highness.” Zuko isn't sure if the water tribe boy is mocking him or making an actual, albeit pitiful, attempt at being respectful to Zuko's title. He steps into the bare chamber and thanks him all the same. As Sokka wanders off, Zuko knows he should feel slighted by the obvious exclusion of being given a room instead of invited to camp out with the others, but he's too relieved to care. The other kids all share an easygoing camaraderie that Zuko understands on a fundamental level but can't hope to replicate. They're open and close and comfortable with each other and Zuko is just awkward and closed off and a mess. He wouldn't be able to let his guard down enough to sleep by their sides in any case and even if he did, he dreaded the thought of waking from a nightmare with tear tracks down his cheeks and the risk that someone would see or hear him.

He sets his pack on the stone shelf that serves as a bed and unpacks his meager possessions: a change of clothes, a hooded cloak, an army bedroll and blanket stolen from the imperial guards barracks, a small coin purse filled with as much coin as it could hold (which he'll give to the waterbender as a gesture of goodwill and gratitude, he decides), the knife his uncle had sent him home from the war front, several short plump candles, and a small family portrait painted a lifetime ago with a singed hole in the parchment where his father's face should be. 

He examines the picture for a moment, his eyes gliding forlornly over the faces of his mother, Lu-Ten, and his uncle. He wonders how much his uncle's face must have changed. It's been over three years since he'd seen him last. There's a pang of sorrow as his gaze falls on Azula's tiny image, standing proudly at Ozai's right hand between their parents. The portrait had been painted when she was only four, just after she'd begun throwing her first sparks but before Ozai had begun pitting them against each other. She'd still been his little sister then instead of his biggest rival. She still is his little sister. Zuko hopes he hasn't made a mistake in leaving her behind. He brushes those thoughts aside. Ozai loves her, Azula can do no wrong in his eyes. Zuko is the disappointment, the failure, the one who took after their mother and that Ozai took out his frustrations on. Azula is safe. She always has been. 

Zuko frowns at the image of himself, pushed off to the far right side of the portrait, perched submissively by Ozai's knee, his disfavor already beginning to show. There's a hand resting on Zuko's shoulder in the portrait. The young, unscarred face of the boy in the picture doesn't smile, already beaten down by cruel words and hands. Zuko imagines he can feel that heavy hand on his shoulder even now. He recalls vividly how it had held him down, forced him to lie still as the man it belonged to did unspeakable things to him. Zuko shivers at the memory and forces it away. He places his palm over the boy and his father, hiding them from view. Embers spring to life beneath his hand and eat away at the figures until only four remain and the embers fade away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aang begins his Firebending training (follows the Firebending Masters)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a lot shorter than other Chapters. It's admittedly a little slow in the beginning, sorry about that. I've reworked it over and over but it was just a tough chapter to write but I felt that it was important to keep. Stick with it though, the build up is mostly at the end when they finally meet the dragons.

The Avatar's firebending training begins at first light the next morning. It's going well until it isn't. Zuko had expected the energetic twelve year old to have a difficult time during the meditative breathing exercises, but he can't help but be impressed with how seriously and patiently he takes his mastery over breath control. The breathing exercises had always been hardest for Zuko to learn to master himself. He was too impatient and fidgety to sit still and breathe with the flames the way he was supposed to when he first began learning. Aang takes to it like he's been doing it all his life. Zuko supposes it has something to do with being an air bender. Mastering airbending likely requires good breath control, he supposes.

The real problem comes when it's time for Aang to learn to create his own flame. Aang can't seem to do much more than create a shower of sparks. Even after Zuko demonstrates his technique, even after he does his best to explain to Aang how to connect to his chi and feel it flow through him, to push it forward and out of himself as flames, nothing happens. The usually boisterous confident Avatar is too timid and nervous to produce a real flame and he lacks the anger to stoke the fire within and feed the flame with each strike. Zuko is at a loss. He doesn't know what he can do to help Aang and they're running out of time before the comet.

He enlightens the rest of the group about their predicament after the failed training session. The earthbender, Toph his memory supplies, suggests seeking out the original source of firebending and learning from there. It would be a good idea except that the dragons are all long dead and gone. Zuko's uncle Iroh had slain the last of them before Zuko had even been born. He remembers sitting with his mother excitedly reading stories and asking if he would see a great dragon someday and watching the sad downturn of her mouth as she explained that there were no more. He hasn't really thought much about them since that long ago day. If he thinks back though, he recalls his history lessons of the Fire Nation and of the first tribes to learn firebending from the dragons themselves, the Sun Warriors. Zuko allows himself a faint ray of hope. The ruins of the Sun Warriors civilization lies on an island to the east of the western air temple, according to Sokka's maps. He suggests going to see if there's anything left in the rubble that can help them.

So they go. It isn't long into their trek through the weed choked city that Aang triggers a hidden trap. He would have been impaled if it hadn't been for his airbender reflexes. They move past it and find a temple. The doors are firmly sealed but Zuko is sure they'll find something of import if they can only get inside. He manages to trigger the sun calendar, unlocking the doors and granting them access. Inside the temple is a ring of larger than life statues illustrating a bending form. Aang convinces him to perform the steps of the dancing dragon with him, causing a pillar to rise from the center of the floor with a golden egg sitting on it. Zuko makes the mistake of picking it up, triggering yet another trap, and they both end up stuck to a ventilation grate, unable to move, for hours. Sometime after sunset, they are discovered. The Sun Warriors are alive.

Aang and Zuko humbly request that the Sun Warriors to teach them the true ways of firebending. They are reluctant at first and Zuko can't blame them. Eventually, they agree to allow the two boys to petition the masters. Once it has been explained what they must do, Zuko is scared. The Sun Warriors say that the masters will judge their worth. It's a test that Zuko isn't sure he can pass. He knows his family is responsible for the dragons extinction, for the imbalance in the world caused by the war. They are responsible for the murder of the Air Nomads. Will he be judged for the crimes of his forefathers, or will the masters merely see the blackened taint that clings to his own soul from the things he has allowed to happen to him and judge him by that alone? Either way, he thinks it's unlikely that he'll make it out. Aang has a chance though. The boys heart is in the right place, his desires are noble. Zuko is sure that regardless of what happens to him, the masters will deem Aang worthy and they will teach him firebending.

  
Zuko puts on a brave face for Aang. He's used to pretending to be stronger than he is. They are tasked with carrying pieces of the eternal flame to the top of the mountain as proof of their dedication. Once they are there, they will present their flames and await their judgment. The reach the top of the peak without incident, but when they are instructed to present their flame, Aang's sputters and dies. He tries to take Zuko's, but Zuko needs it so much more. Aang is as pure as a person can be, even without a flame the masters would have to deem him worthy. Zuko can't risk disappointing the masters any further. He is certain they will be disappointed enough in him already. As Aang struggles to take Zuko's flame, it goes out.

There's a loud rumbling coming from the caves to either side of the platform they are standing on. Zuko swears he can feel the earth quake under his feet. It's nearly impossible for Zuko to keep his fear from showing now, especially when twin dragons, red and blue, burst forth from the caves and begin circling them. Zuko stands back to back with Aang, watching the two beasts as they fly around them. His awe overshadows his fear. A vague though sits at the back of his mind, _mother, they're alive._

Aang suggests they do the Dancing Dragon. Zuko is skeptical, but they have nothing else to offer so he agrees. As they begin to move through the forms, the dragons stop circling and start moving in sync with them. The Dancing Dragon comes to an end and the dragons land. They cling to either side of the elevated platform. For several seconds nothing happens. Zuko stares at the dragon in front of him, it's huge intelligent eyes never leaving him. He can hardly breathe. The dragon looks at him and Zuko feels like it's staring into his soul, stripping away the walls he's built to protect himself and leaving all of his secrets bare. The dragons rear back and unleash a torrent of flames that engulf them.

They're unlike any flames that Zuko has ever seen. They are full of pulsating color and light, warm but somehow not searing him like he knows they should. There's a voice, reverberating inside his mind. It whispers secrets of firebending that Zuko has never been taught by his own masters. _Fire is neither good, nor evil. It is shaped by those who wield it. If you allow your fire to be fueled by rage and anger and hatred as your forebears did, then in time it will consume you. Fire, if used only for destruction, will inevitably destroy it's master in the end, burning away all that was once good until all that is left are the blackened remains of a soul that knows only death and destruction. Your uncle knows this. He has seen the dangers of giving in to rage and greed and conquest. He once walked the path you are on now. It took the loss of his son to see the truth, that as in all things there is a balance too in fire._

_Fire can destroy and burn, but it can also warm and cleanse. The warmth of the sun brings life, the heat of the fire can provide nourishment. Fire is love, the gentle glow within that sparks to life when you open yourself to another. Fire is the spark from which all life is created. This is the truth of fire._

_For too long you have suffered at the hands of your own ilk and been betrayed by those whose own fire has consumed them long ago. Still, the flames of love and goodness are strong in you, little drake. Your father has done his best to tamp them down, but even his cruelties have not succeeded in extinguishing your flame. I warn you, you must not allow the flame of your injustice to grow unchecked. You must also not allow it to burn out. You are stronger then you know. The evils perpetrated against you are your burden to bear, I cannot help with that, but know that they are not your crimes._

Zuko doesn't notice the tears sliding down his cheeks. “I understand.” _The Avatar cannot bring balance alone. He will need you._ Zuko nods and as suddenly as it began, the fire stops and the dragons retreat back into their caves. Zuko doesn't know what the dragons said to Aang. They don't talk about it. It's as though there is some unspoken knowledge that whatever each of them had experienced had been intensely personal and private. The important thing is that Aang isn't afraid of his firebending anymore.

Zuko feels better too. He isn't better, one conversation with a dragon won't negate all of the things that he's been through, but at least it's easier to believe that he didn't deserve it. He still has nightmares. He still feels tainted and ashamed, but now he can place the blame on Ozai's shoulders rather than his own. His confidence has grown as a result of the experience too. Zuko's own flame is stronger than it has ever been, His firebending has never come so easily to him before. He finds it easier to ignore the voice in his mind that sounds suspiciously like Ozai. It tells him he's a poor bender, a weak and worthless wretch, but it doesn't hinder him the way it used to. He sees the hurtful words for what they were, another way for Ozai to exert his power over his son. They were no more than degradations intended to tear Zuko down for the crime of compassion and keep him subservient and unquestioning. He smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be more interesting. It'll be more spending time with the group and Zuko getting comfortable and gearing up for the Boiling Rock.


	4. Chapter 4

When he isn't busy training Aang, Zuko makes an effort to ingratiate himself with the group. He spends his down time either sparring with the others or in the courtyard doing little things to be helpful: building the fire, washing the dishes, helping peel and cut vegetables for their meals. The others talk a lot, about everything: things they've done, home, family, stories. Zuko doesn't say much. He'd rather listen to everyone else. He definitely doesn't talk much about himself unless it's to answer a question put to him by one of the others. Inevitably, someone asks about his scar. Sokka's the one who brings it up during dinner one night. They're gathered around the fire as Katara passes around bowls of stew. The chatter dies down as everyone begins to eat. Sokka shovels his food into his mouth and looks up. His eyes catch on Zuko and he pauses chewing. He doesn't even bother to swallow before he decides to speak. “So, Zuko, what happened to your face?” What little conversation was still being had dies immediately, everyone looking not at Zuko but at Sokka with shocked expressions. The only sound remaining is the snapping and crackling of the fire. Sokka looks up from his bowl at the sudden silence. “What?”  
  


Katara jams her elbow into her brothers side hard enough to make him yelp. “Sokka,” she hisses through her teeth, “don't be rude.”

Zuko focuses on his food. His scar isn't something he likes to think about, but he can at least be proud of what he'd done that had led to it. Overall it's not that painful of a memory, all things considered. He picks at his food as he explains. “It was the Firelord. He gave it to me as punishment for disrespect and cowardice.” He knows that if he looks at them their faces will be full of horror and pity. He supposes it's better than the twisted visages of cruel joy that some of the spectators in the stands had worn the day he received his mark, but he doesn't want it just the same. “I spoke out against a plan to sacrifice a division of new recruits. I was forced to fight a duel for my honor, but I refused and I was branded for it.” He waits a beat before he risks a glance at the faces around him. Aang looks like he wants to cry. Teo looks like he might be sick. Toph seems as impassive as ever, but Zuko doesn't miss the way her small fists are clenched so hard that her knuckles are practically white with unexpressed rage. Katara, Haru, and the Duke all have shocked, sad looks to them. Katara and Haru in particular seem to be a bit chastened by their new knowledge of the Fire Prince. Zuko figures it's because they had been the most reserved about allowing him to join them and the most standoffish to him in general. Zuko doesn't blame them for that though. He's heard about what the Fire Nation has done to their families. He's a little surprised that Sokka hadn't shown the same reservations as his sister.

Speaking of Sokka, the boy has gone quiet. He scowls into his bowl, a dark look settled onto his features, before he sets the bowl aside, half eaten. There's a strange tension in the air. Zuko decides it's up to him to dispel it. “For a long time I thought that I deserved it, but I don't anymore. I know better now. What Ozai did was cruel and it was wrong, but if I could go back and do it over knowing what would happen... I think I would do it again. Someone had to stand up for those soldiers. They didn't ask for this war. They were just doing a job to provide for their families and they didn't deserve to be betrayed like that. Defending them was the right thing to do, no matter the consequences.”

Haru is the first to speak. “Would you fight? If you could go back, I mean. Would you have fought the duel?”

Zuko's brow furrows in thought as he considers the question, but in the end he just shrugs. “I don't know. If I had fought, then maybe everything that happened after would have changed and I wouldn't be here helping you now. Or maybe it would have finally given Ozai the excuse to outright kill me without causing dissent in the Fire Nation. Either way, it might have changed my life for the better, but I wouldn't be _here_ now. I think maybe I had to go through those things to be the person I am today, to set me on this path. I think that helping the Avatar has always been my destiny.”

The atmosphere around the fire is still subdued and heavy. Zuko finds it stifling. He clears his throat and pushes away the pain the conversation had brought up, intending to break the tension. “Do you want to hear my uncle's favorite tea joke,” he asks awkwardly. The others seem as ready to leave such heavy topics behind him as he does. A dull murmur of agreement rises up around him during which Zuko realizes that he's forgotten how the joke even goes. He blunders on regardless in his hopes of restoring some levity. “Well, I don't really remember the beginning, but the punchline is: leaf me alone. I'm bushed.” There are a few half-hearted chuckles and Zuko is well aware that they are aimed at him and not his poor attempt at humor, but that's fine. It's had it's desired effect. He's still embarrassed by how pitiful it was and he feels a blush creep into his cheeks. He shrugs dismissively. “It's better when my uncle tells it.”

Katara gives him a teasing smile. “That's probably because he remembers the whole thing.”

Just like that, the tension that was hanging over them all shatters and the low idle chatter seeps back into the space it had left, albeit more muted than before. Zuko begins to collect the dirty dishes to bring to the river for washing. After several minutes a noise to his right catches his attention. Sokka ambles toward him, handing Zuko his still partially full bowl. Zuko takes it and sets it aside, gesturing for Sokka to sit before taking a seat next to the water tribe warrior. Sokka draws his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms loosely around them. “You barely ate.” Zuko points out. “Is something wrong?”

Sokka laughs mirthlessly. “You mean besides what you told us earlier?”

Zuko's heart sinks. He'd intended what he'd shared to be an olive branch of sorts, a baring of his soul to show that he trusted them and they could trust him, further proof that he had no ties to the Firelord beyond blood. He looks away. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset everyone.”

“You'd have to be heartless not to be upset by that story. But... how I feel isn't your fault. I should have assumed it wasn't going to be a fun story. It wasn't right of me to have asked you about something so personal in the first place. I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. No one does.” Sokka still looks pensive, like there's something more going on that he doesn't want to say. Zuko doesn't have much experience interacting with other kids his age. The closest thing he'd had to friends growing up were Mai, Ty Lee, and Azula and they didn't really count, but he feels like he should say something. That's what a real friend would do, right? “There's something else, isn't there? Something's bothering you besides that.”

“It's my dad.” Sokka hunches into himself and sighs. “I guess I'm just worried about him. We left a lot of our troops behind at the invasion and I just assumed they'd be okay. But now? I'm not so sure. I mean,” he glances awkwardly at Zuko from the corner of his eye before continuing, “if your own dad could do something like that to you then what are they going through? What's happening to my dad?”

Zuko's stomach twists. He has to remind himself that Sokka doesn't know half of what Ozai is capable of, and that thought makes things worse. Still, he tries to reassure him. “Well, I doubt the Firelord would bother to deal with prisoners personally, if that helps any. Being a prisoner won't be easy, but I'm sure they'll be fine.” Judging from the look Sokka gives him, he doesn't believe it. Zuko tries again. “They'll be prisoners of war. Branding is a punishment reserved for cowards and traitors of the Fire Nation, so they won't have to worry about that. It's unlikely that they would be executed either. Most of your troops are likely to end up in work prisons for forced labor. The leaders would be separated and held in maximum security prisons to keep them from organizing an uprising. I can't say how they would be treated by the guards, but outright torture is illegal so...” he trails off. It's painfully clear that his pathetic attempt to ease Sokka's mind is failing miserably.

“Seriously, not helping.”

Zuko looks sheepish. “Sorry.”

Sokka is silent for a moment, biting his lip in thought. He looks Zuko dead in the eye. “Where would the Fire Nation take war prisoners?”

Zuko looks confused. “I told you, they'd be taken to the work camps.”

Sokka huffs, annoyed. “Yeah, but I mean, _where_?”

Zuko narrows his eyes. “What are you planning?”

“I just need to know.”

The unmasked worry in the boy's face makes Zuko feel worse. There are work camps all over the Fire Nation and in the Earth Kingdom colonies. Their troops would be split up, Zuko knows that. They could be anywhere. Zuko's also aware that Sokka's father is the Southern Water Tribe chief, which means he would be in one of two prisons that Zuko can come up with off the top of his head. Neither are pleasant options. “I don't know.”

Sokka scrutinizes him. “You're lying. Tell me. Please.” The last word is quiet, a pained, plea.

Zuko tries to dissuade him one last time. “Trust me, it would only make you feel worse.”

Sokka doesn't give up. Zuko doesn't really expect him to. “Please, Zuko. I have to know.” He's practically begging now.

Zuko plays with the hem of his tunic, creasing the fabric between his fingers. He can't look at Sokka. “I can't say where your troops ended up. There are too many places, but...” there's a heavy loaded pause, “I think I might know where your dad might be. After they surrendered, everyone would have been taken to Caldera prison initially. From there most of them would have been shipped to work camps and prisons. It's possible that some of your men are still there, but it's not a good idea to keep war prisoners so close to the capital in case they manage to escape, so that's unlikely. Your dad was the chief, though. He led the invasion, right? He would have either been imprisoned in the most well guarded cells in Caldera prison, or more likely, been sent to the Boiling Rock. It's located in the middle of a boiling lake in the crater of an active volcano. There's no way to escape. You need to forget about it right now. If you really want to help your father, then we need to make sure we defeat Ozai. Once we put my uncle on the throne, I'm sure he'll free the prisoners. If not, I can talk to him. He was always kind to me. I'm sure I could get him to grant them a pardon.”

Sokka shakes his head. “No. I'm sorry Zuko, but I can't just wait around and hope we win. I appreciate your concern, but I have to try. I'm going to get my dad out or die trying.”

Zuko sighs heavily. He knew it wouldn't be so easy to talk him out of it. Sokka was stubborn. “Fine. If you won't listen to reason, then I'm going with you.” Somehow, he knows he's probably going to regret this, but he can't let Sokka go running off alone.

Sokka looks up in surprise. It quickly transforms into confusion. “But... You risked everything to leave the Fire Nation. Why would you risk breaking into a Fire Nation prison and getting captured for me?”

Zuko isn't sure how best to answer that. There are a lot of reasons. He knows something about Fire Nation prisons and law and customs and Sokka will have a better chance of making it out alive with Zuko than he does without him. Maybe in some way he wants this crazy plan to work just to spite Ozai. There's another reason too, one that he doesn't want to acknowledge because it seems ridiculous and childish. He wants Sokka to trust him, he wants to be his friend. Zuko's never had a friend before, not really. Azula had friends and he'd been forced to play with them occasionally, usually to his detriment. She'd gone to the Royal Academy for Girls. The only company Zuko had were the old men that tutored him. His only interactions with other children his age had been infrequent and regimented, stiff formal meetings with noble children at banquets and court gatherings where his behavior was closely monitored and dictated by etiquette. He'd been a lonely child and now he's found himself desperate to connect to this group of misfit children, all but made orphans from the war his family waged, regardless of the consequences. He doesn't say that, of course. He goes with the less pathetic, more logical option. He shrugs. “It's a suicide mission. At least if I go with you, there's a slight chance you'll survive.”

Sokka smiles ever so slightly and it makes Zuko feel happier than he has in a long time. “Thanks, Zuko.” Warmth spreads through Zuko's chest

They wait until the others have all fallen asleep that night before they put their plan into action. Zuko insists on leaving a note so that no one will be worried when they're nowhere to be found the next morning. They don't take much, just the clothes on their back and Sokka's sword. Zuko points out that they can't really take Appa to the Boiling Rock, he'd be easily spotted and they'd be found out before they could do anything. Luckily, Zuko's lessons in military tactics had included a section on supply routes and defensive outposts. There happens to be one on the western edge of the Fire Nation, maybe an hour or two flight from the air temple. They'll take Appa there under the cover of night and land far enough away from the perimeter scouts that they won't be spotted. From there, they just have to send Appa back to the group, sneak into the outpost, steal a war balloon, and be on their way... as long as everything goes to plan.

They get lucky. The Fire Nation has gotten lazy in the last hundred years. They don't really expect the war to come to them, particularly from the west and especially now that the Water Tribes have been mostly neutralized and the Earth Kingdom's last strongholds have fallen. As such, security is more lax than they could have hoped for. There are few guards patrolling the perimeter and the two boys manage to easily avoid them. The outpost is a rather small establishment, however, mostly a training center for new recruits than an actual supply post, but they do still have two small war balloons tethered outside. Zuko's thankful for that. It would have been a terrible blow to have sent Appa back only to be stranded in enemy territory with no means of escape. It's ridiculously easy to sneak into one of the balloon baskets and hide until the patrol has gone far enough away to risk firing up the burner. Zuko times it just right. As soon as the first few waves of flame fill the furnace and the balloon begins to rise, the alarm is sounded. Most of the soldiers are asleep in the barracks and they take time to arrive on the scene. Of the ones that are already awake, few are benders. Zuko and Sokka escape without much of a fight. They just might be able to pull this stunt off after all.

Sokka lounges in the basket while Zuko feeds flames into the furnace. The sun has already risen and the sky is a pale blue with the summer morning. An awkward silence has settled over them. Neither boy seems to know how to break it, but eventually Sokka tries. “So... do you miss anything?”

Zuko is surprised by the question, but relieved to have something to think about besides this crazy plan. He needs something to keep him awake to power this thing after a long sleepless night besides his anxiety. “What do you mean?”  
  


“It's just, when Katara and I first left the south pole it was fun for a while, but it didn't take long before we started to miss it, you know? I know you aren't a big fan of your dad, but you must have left a lot of other stuff behind, right? There's gotta be something you miss: friends, being pampered, your favorite foods?” Sokka sounds wistful as he lists that last item.

Zuko just shrugs. “Pampering is overrated, trust me. It gets old having people watch your every move all the time. And I haven't really been gone long enough to miss the food yet.”

Sokka chuckles. “Give it some time. A few more weeks of Katara's cooking and I'm sure you'll be begging to go home for some real food.” Zuko highly doubts that. Katara's cooking isn't terrible, a little more bland than what he's used to maybe, but not bad enough to make him want to go home. “What about friends then? You were the Prince after all. You must have had a ton of friends.”

“Not really.” It comes out more bitterly than Zuko would have liked. “I was pretty isolated growing up. But...” his tone softens, “I guess there is Mai.”

Sokka screws his face up. “Wait, the gloomy girl that sighs a lot who's always with your sister when she attacks us?”

“Yeah”

“So, was she like, your girlfriend or something?” Sokka's curiosity seems piqued at the turn of conversation.

Zuko rubs the back of his neck. “I guess you could say that. It's complicated.”

Sokka leans forward, seeming suddenly immensely interested in where this is headed. “So uncomplicate it.”

Zuko shifts his gaze back to the furnace and feeds it a few more fire blasts. He can feel the heat creeping into his face. Maybe it wasn't that complicated. He'd liked Mai, after all, but he'd messed all that up when he left and even if he hadn't... he wasn't sure it could have worked, not with the way things were. “We were betrothed. I know you must not have a great opinion of her because of my sister, but she's really not that bad. She never really cared that I wasn't a great firebender, maybe because she's not a bender, but she didn't make fun of me for it like Azula always did. She can be kind of nice when you get to know her. I guess she comes off kind of cold if you aren't used to her though.”

Sokka leans back, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You sound like you really like her.”

“Yeah I guess I do.” There's a tinge of sadness to Zuko's words. “At least now she won't be stuck with me.”

Sokka winces. “Oh. So it was an arranged marriage. I'm guessing she didn't feel the same way? I understand... kind of. I knew someone like that. My first girlfriend actually. She was engaged to this total jerk but she didn't even really like him and then we kind of kissed, but I didn't know she was engaged or anything at the time. Not that it mattered because then Zhao killed the moon spirit so she gave up her life and turned into the moon and.... uh...” Sokka finally realizes he's rambling incoherently and stops himself before he can make things even more weird. “Anyway... I guess it's not really the same. But... sorry anyway.”

Zuko shrugs. “Don't be. She did like me. Actually, she liked me before I liked her. But she deserves better.”

Sokka frowns and sits up straight. “Hey. Don't sell yourself short. I might not know you supe well, but from what I've seen you're a pretty decent guy.”

Heat creeps up the back of Zuko's neck and he knows he's blushing from the praise. _It's a little pathetic,_ he thinks, _that he's so starved for approval that a stupid, throw away compliment can cause a reaction like that._ Zuko brushes Sokka's words off. They don't matter anyway. “It's true. Mai is great, but I didn't love her enough to stay. Now I'm a traitor. She deserves to find someone that won't ruin her life.”

Zuko doesn't like the way Sokka's looking at him. “I think she deserves to have a choice. If you care about her, shouldn't she get to be the one who decides if she still wants to be with you, traitor or not? Who knows, maybe she loves you more than she loves being a pawn for the Fire Nation. Maybe now she'll just get married off to some other guy she couldn't care less about.”

Zuko is getting agitated. He doesn't owe Sokka an explanation. Even if he did he couldn't possibly explain that his decision wasn't all politics. There were other factors at work, ones that Sokka would never be able to fathom, that had kept him away from Mai since before he'd left _because_ he loved her. “It doesn't matter. I made _my_ decision and what's done is done. Just leave it.”

Sokka puts his hands up defensively. “Ok, ok. Calm down. I'm just trying to make conversation. Sokka doesn't pry anymore after that, instead he fills the silence with stories about growing up in the south pole. Zuko doesn't miss that, while he speaks often about his father and sister, Sokka hardly mentions his mother. It's the other way around for Zuko. Sometimes it seemed like the only good thing Zuko had in his life had been his mother.

Zuko doesn't mind listening to Sokka carry on. He's always been starved for genuine comfort, affection, love. He finds himself wanting desperately to make a connection with the water tribe boy. Besides, it doesn't seem right to make Sokka carry the brunt of the conversation. Zuko decides to open up and share something of himself in return. He doesn't have many happy memories from his childhood, but he hasn't always been miserable either. Things weren't always bad. He tells Sokka about feeding the turtleducks by the pond in the garden and going to the theater with his mother. He reminisces about spending time with his uncle and Lu-Ten before they'd left to fight in the war. Zuko can't help but smile when Sokka tells him that they'd met his uncle in Ba Sing Se and that he'd had his own tea shop in the upper ring of the city. He says that Iroh had talked about him all the time and had often hoped that he was safe. Zuko regrets that he didn't think to free his uncle during his plan to escape on the day of black sun. Somehow, Sokka seems to know what he's thinking and stops him, telling him that his uncle would rather Zuko be safe than risking his life to free him. Zuko doesn't bother pointing out that he isn't safe anyway, not when they're headed to the highest security prison in the country.

The friendly chatter dies down as the island where the Boiling Rock is located comes into view. It's a daunting sight, the barren black volcanic rock rising from the sea and disappearing in a cloud of water vapor that hangs heavy around the crater holding the boiling lake. Tension fills the air around them as they draw ever closer to their goal. Everything goes wrong quickly after they enter the thick steam rising from the lake. The steam provides cover, but the heat makes it impossible to maintain their altitude. The balloon begins to lose height, drifting closer to the super-heated water with every second. Zuko frantically blasts more fire into the furnace to try and get some lift, but it's to no avail. The crash is inevitable, but Zuko won't give up. They've managed to make it about three quarters of the way across, but there's no way they will land safely on the other side. The gondola hangs mere feet above the water. Zuko is putting everything he has into the furnace. “What do we do now?”

Sokka shares a worried look with Zuko. “Brace for impact?”

He doesn't seem at all sure of his suggestion, but it's the only one he makes. A moment later the basket skims the water. By some stroke of luck, they're closer to shore than they could have hoped and by the time the water drags them to a stop, they're tumbling forward and scrambling up the rocky shore instead of sinking into the deadly water. They get up and Zuko surveys the wreckage. The frame that holds the canvas taut is a twisted broken heap. The canvas itself has been shredded by the sharp rocks. Zuko has no idea how they're going to escape. Sokka shoves the broken hulk into the water with a booted foot and watches it slip beneath the dark water. “What did you do that for?” Zuko knows that even if the balloon had been fine it would have been useless to them, but he can't help but feel like any hope of escape has sunk along with the balloon.

“We couldn't use it to escape and if we'd just left it then everyone would know something was up. The whole place would be on high alert.” Zuko can't argue with Sokka's logic. They stay close to the prison walls and begin searching for a door. They practically hold their breath, waiting for an alarm to sound with every step they take. It never does. The spirits must be with them, Zuko is too jaded to believe it's luck, because they find an unguarded door several yards from where they'd crash landed. The door is also strangely unlocked. Zuko finds it concerning, but Sokka insists there's no way anyone would have known they were coming. They crack open the door and peek in. There's no one around, just a long dimly lit corridor. They slip inside and Zuko eyes the doors that they pass. Finally, there's one marked supply. Zuko picks the lock and the two of them slip inside. They can breathe a little easier here now that they won't be accidentally discovered by any guard who happens to turn the corner.

Zuko inspects the shelving lining the walls. Clothing and gear are piled up, waiting to be handed out to new guards or used to replace damaged items. He pulls several pieces from their places and shoves them at Sokka before finding his own. Sokka just holds the pile of clothing to his chest and gives Zuko a puzzled look. “We'll pretend to be low ranking guards.” He explains. “There are a lot of them here, and with the war a lot of the lower ranks get cycled out to join the front lines when they're needed and replaced with fresh recruits. We'll be able to fit in relatively well with less chance of being noticed and we'll have decent access to the majority of the prison.”

Sokka nods his understanding and begins to undress. The casualness with which the water tribe boy divests himself of his clothes makes Zuko uneasy. He turns away to give him some privacy. Zuko would prefer to change alone, but it's not an option in this situation. Instead he backs himself into a corner, avoiding looking in Sokka's direction and hurriedly sheds his own clothes and pulls on the uniform.

Sokka chuckles from across the room as Zuko is finishing tugging at his clothes until they're straight. The sound startles him, forcing him to look up. Sokka is thankfully dressed and smiling crookedly. “Sorry.” He doesn't really look it. “I guess I didn't expect a prince to be so shy. Don't you fancy rich types have servants to dress you and all that?”

Zuko busies himself by going through the armor in search of pieces that will fit the two of them well enough. As a matter of fact, he did have servants for that, but he'd dismissed them when he was fourteen. He didn't want anyone pawing at his clothes or touching him if he could help it. He was able to dress himself so it seemed unnecessary to subject himself to that. “No,” he lies.

“Oh.” Sokka sounds surprised. “Well, I guess I learned something then. Anyway, you shouldn't be so shy about it. You're a good looking guy. I'm sure there's plenty of girls who wouldn't mind getting an eyeful of you.” He blunders on, oblivious to the way Zuko stiffens and stills at his words. Zuko knows Sokka's trying to be nice, giving him an awkward but, surely in his eyes, flattering compliment. That doesn't stop it from twisting his insides in knots and making him feel sick. He can't stop the heat from rising into his face and knows that Sokka will misinterpret his shame as embarrassment. He forces out a strained _thank you_ and shoves a helmet and a set of shoulder armor, bracers, and shin guards at his friend and starts looking for a set to fit him. He feels better once the armor is strapped into place and the helmet is on his head with the visor down, safer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in the heart of the Boiling Rock now... it is NOT going to be a good place. Rough times immediately ahead. Be warned. Also, keep in mind that since this is from Zuko's POV he does not have all of the information about what's happening in certain situations and therefore he may make some assumptions about things.

They manage to find a secluded spot to rest for a few hours before they join the morning shift. Zuko needs it. He hasn't slept in a day and a half and he's running on fumes. Zuko wakes as the sun creeps over the horizon. He can't see it, but he feels his chi stirring within him. Sokka should have woken him to take watch hours ago, but the water tribe boy is busy snoring gently on his shoulder. Zuko nudges him awake and they slip out of their hiding place to mingle with the other guards getting ready for their shift.

They don't have much time to look for Sokka's father before they're forced to split up. They'd been standing around the yard, looking through the sea of prisoners trying to spot dark skin and water tribe hair, when a fight breaks out between a guard and a tall, heavy built prisoner. Zuko watches impassively, silently seething, as the guard bullies the prisoner into firebending. Sokka gets called away to take the prisoner to the coolers and Zuko is left on his own. He watches them walk away and hopes that Sokka will keep his mouth shut, or at least won't do or say anything suspicious enough to get them caught. Zuko is sure that he's never had Agni's favor, still, he sends up a silent prayer to any spirits who might be listening to keep Sokka safe. He doesn't bother to ask for his own protection. He gave up on that years ago.

No matter how worried he is about his friend, he can't stand around dwelling on it. The sooner they find Chief Hakoda, the sooner they can figure out their escape. Zuko plays up his part as a new transfer, asking around the lounge with casual interest about the prisoners at boiling rock. 'Is there anyone notable? Any high ranking traitors, war prisoners, anyone from the recent invasion he'd heard so much about?'

The other guards laugh and apologize that the job isn't as glamorous and exciting as Zuko had apparently been led to believe. From them he learns that no one from the invasion had been sent to the boiling rock. Zuko's stomach drops at the news. He knows that Sokka won't take it well, but there's nothing to be done for it. As for Prince Zuko and General Iroh, they say, they have yet to be captured. The news makes Zuko perk up and he's glad that the visor on his helmet obscures the hope and excitement in his eyes even as he forces himself to frown in feigned displeasure. He hadn't even known that his uncle had escaped. It's the first good news he's heard.

He mostly tunes out the guards chatter after that and tries to work out just how he's going to break the bad news about Hakoda to his friend. The two boys meet up again by chance later on a balcony overlooking the prison yard. Zuko is apologetic as he explains the situation. The young warrior looks devastated. He slumps against the railing, lamenting the stupid pointless risk they'd taken for nothing. Zuko tries to think of something comforting to say but he can't come up with anything better than, “at least you tried.”

It doesn't help. Zuko hadn't really thought it would, but he has no idea how to be comforting. Sokka lifts his head to gaze out over the yard and starts to grin. “Maybe this wasn't a waste after all,” he says excitedly. Zuko has to disagree, but has the tact to keep it to himself. “Look!” Sokka points down into the sea of red milling below them. Zuko isn't sure what he's pointing at. “It's Suki!”

Zuko leans over the rail next to him, trying to see where Sokka's pointing. There! There's a girl sitting by herself off to the side. Zuko still doesn't understand the significance. He doesn't know who this Suki person is. He's pretty sure he hasn't heard anyone mention the name until now, but clearly whoever she is, she and Sokka seem pretty close. Sokka stands up with renewed determination in his eyes. He asks Zuko to help him. He needs to visit her cell tonight and tell her about their plan to escape. He needs something good to have come from this risk. Zuko agrees.

Zuko and Sokka visit the women's cell block after lights out. A couple of female guards give them dirty looks as they cross into the women's quarters, but they don't say anything. Sokka peeks into the tiny windows in the doors as they walk by until he finds the cell he's looking for. There are no guards in this hallway. That's good. It will make it easier to slip in and out without arousing suspicion that they're up to something.

Zuko takes up a guard position outside of the door and Sokka unlocks the cell and slips inside. The minutes tick by but Sokka doesn't come out. They don't have much of a plan in place so Zuko doesn't know what's taking so long. Sokka should be telling her that they're planning an escape and they'll let her know the details when they work them out. It shouldn't be taking this long. He wishes Sokka would hurry up already. He's getting nervous. The longer they stay here, the more chance there is of being discovered.

There's a noise in the cell and Zuko takes a quick peek in the window. Sokka and Suki are pressed together in an embrace. He turns back to the hall. They don't have time for this. Sokka can get handsy with his girlfriend later, after they've escaped. He pounds on the door to hurry them along. Zuko grows more frustrated and impatient with each minute that goes by. His heart skips a beat and begins racing when he sees a shadow growing at the far end of the corridor. He bangs his fist against the door more urgently as a female guard rounds the corner. He's panicking internally as she walks toward him. He thumps the door one last time, swearing under his breath. “Dammit, Sokka, put your dick away and get out here.”

Sokka is still inside when the guard stops outside the door. Zuko hopes the idiot doesn't choose this moment to finally heed his warnings and show himself. The guard looks at Zuko. “Step aside. I need to get into this cell.” Zuko stammers out the first half-assed excuse that comes to mind to dissuade her from opening the door. It doesn't work and the guard pushes him aside to unlock the door. Zuko reacts out of panic. He grabs the guards arm and spins her around, slamming her face first into the wall. He twists her arm behind her back and forces it up, a move that drives her to her knees and makes it easy for Zuko to get the leverage he needs to force her flat on the ground. She's spitting mad, calling out for help and bucking up against the boy straddling her back.

She's stronger than Zuko had expected and while he has the advantage initially, it isn't long before she wrests herself from his grip and manages to twist around, grappling with him until she's the one pinning him down. She lets up just enough to flip him effortlessly onto his stomach and pins his arms behind him and secures them with metal cuffs. Zuko thrashes on the ground as she holds him down, straddling his legs and pressing down on his back. Zuko knows he's fucked now. He should have let Sokka get caught, maybe they could have played it off. He won't be able to make up excuses for attacking a guard. The woman gets off of him and roughly hauls him to his feet. She shoves him at a waiting guard, one who's a bit on the short and scrawny side. It's nice to know that Sokka's finally decided to show himself. “This guard is an impostor. Take him to the warden.”

A hand clamps around Zuko's bicep and another rests between his shoulder blades and pushes him forward. A breath ghosts against his ear in a whisper. “Don't worry. I'll come up with something.” Zuko wishes those words were more reassuring.

Sokka is dismissed by the warden's personal guard once they get to the office. He gives Zuko's arm a gentle squeeze before leaving to hopefully come up with a plan. Zuko's trip to the wardens office outlines just how fucked he is. The warden knows exactly who he is. He shouldn't be surprised really, he has a pretty recognizable face, but the wanted poster the warden tosses down in from of him declaring that he's a wanted enemy of the fire nation assures him that, now, everyone will be looking for him. The purposeful butchering of his name stings though. The characters on the poster aren't the ones his mother had used and they're obviously meant to inspire more hatred toward him for his supposed crimes. Zuko's a little shocked at the reward being offered for him dead or alive. It's enough money that it would be a hard offer to turn down for even the most kind hearted soul.

If all that wasn't bad enough, the warden has a personal vendetta against him to settle first. He informs Zuko that the Firelord will be notified of Zuko's capture in due time, but until then, he'll make Zuko regret breaking his niece's heart. Zuko is forced to change into prison rags right there in the wardens office. The warden hardly looks at him as he does so, thankfully. Afterward, the warden's personal goons are instructed to take him to the coolers.

Zuko hasn't heard of the coolers before. He's brought to a long, distant hallway lined with thick metal doors. They stop outside of one of them and a guard opens it. A blast of freezing cold air rushes out to greet him. It feels good compared to the hot, humid air inside the prison, but not for long. The guards push him inside of the tiny room and the door clangs shut behind him. There's no way out of the metal box and now that the door is closed the refreshingly cool air is quickly becoming uncomfortable. He hunkers down in the center of the room. It's not easy to do. The room is round and not much wider than his shoulders. If he leans to far in any direction he'll be in direct contact with the frost covered sides of the cooler. He draws his legs up and wraps his arms around himself to conserve heat. Every now and then he lets out a fiery breath to warm the air around him. It staves off the chill, but only temporarily. Zuko thinks about how he'd told Sokka that torture was illegal. He was wrong, he decides. They might not call it torture, but that's what this is.

He isn't sure how long he's been in the ice box. It could have been minutes or hours. It's hard to tell when there's no evidence of the passing time. Not to mention that even with his breath of fire, he's so cold that he's started to shiver and all he can think about is how achingly cold he is. He isn't sure he can take much more when the door opens and he's pulled to his feet. He tries to stand but his legs won't cooperate. They're stiff with cold and painful pins and needles shoot through them with every motion from being stuck in the same position for too long. The hot air that he'd soon longed for while in the cooler now feels burning hot on his skin. The guards half drag him to a cell and shove him inside.

He lands hard on the floor, skinning his palms on the rough stone as he stretches his arms out to catch himself. The door clangs shut with an echoing finality and he's once again left alone. He pushes himself up and drags himself to sit against the wall. He cradles his palms in his lap and surveys the damage. They aren't too bad, just minor abrasions. They sting, but they'll be fine in a few hours. He wishes he could wash the dirt off, but he doesn't even have a basin of water. The only things in the room are a metal bed frame with a thin mattress and a threadbare blanket and a bucket in a corner which, from the looks of it, is meant to serve as a bathroom. He sits slumped against the wall shivering and overheated at the same time and hopes that Sokka will figure something out fast.

Zuko's must have fallen asleep. He wakes up, chin against his chest on the floor where he'd crawled the day before. He knows it's a new day because he can feel his inner fire stir with the unseen sun. He twists his neck, trying and failing to work out the painful stiffness that settled in as he slept. He's warm again, oppressively so, but at least the burning sensation from switching between freezing cold and stifling hot has gone away. Now, he just has to suffer with the too humid hot air of the boiling rock. He comforts himself with the knowledge that at least the guards must be just as uncomfortable, possibly more so in their armor and helmets.

Zuko spends the morning in his cell. He passes the time by meditating and working through some basic katas without flame. At some point a guard brings him a bowl of watery rice porridge and a cup of water. The food is bland and disgusting and doesn't do much to satiate his hunger, but it's better than nothing. He tries not to look at it or think about what the warden or the guards might have done to it as he spoons it into his mouth and swallows without letting it linger on his tongue. He's on edge all day, waiting for something to happen. Things have been too quiet, too easy. Sometime after he's been fed the guards come. They pull him from the cell and drag him the long way to the punishment block again. Once more, he's locked in the freezing cold confines of the freezer.

He can't be sure, but he thinks he's been in there longer than he had been the day before. He only assumes so because he feels colder and more lethargic when he's pulled to his feet this time. His breath of fire had held out for a while, but he only has the energy to keep it up for so long before he succumbs to the cold and has to rely on just holding himself and trying to contain every little bit of heat he has. By the time his captors come back for him he's barely able to stand and nearly unresponsive. He doesn't even try to break his fall when he's thrown to the floor of his cell this time. He lies, curled into a ball, on the floor until eventually he has the energy to drag himself to his bunk and pull his blanket around his shoulders. He's brought another meager meal and only just forces it down. If the last two days are anything to go by, he'll need every shred of energy he can get.

Other than the guards who brought him to the cooler and back and the one that delivered his meals, Zuko has no visitors. The guards don't even bother to speak to him other than to give orders which he obeys as much as he can to avoid further punishment. Zuko doesn't see Sokka at all. He's somewhat concerned about that. He hopes that Sokka hasn't been discovered as well.

He's curled up on his cot sleeping fitfully under the thin blanket, still shivering occasionally from his last trip to the coolers when he's startled awake by the creaking of the cell door. He knows instinctively that it's still night and for a moment he thinks that Sokka has finally managed to sneak in to see him. Zuko's eyes crack open and a blurry figure comes into view, a dark shadow against the dim light that filters in through from the corridor. For a split second his tired sleep addled mind is relieved until he registers that this shadow is too tall, too broad to be his friend. He's instantly alert when several other figures slip into the cell behind the first and the heavy door closes. The light dims more, the cell lit only by what light filters though the tiny window high in the cell door.

Zuko sits bolt upright and there's a tense moment when the guards and he stare wordlessly at each other as if waiting to see who will make the first move. The one in the lead, a stocky burly looking man with a cruel sickly grin steps forward. Zuko is hyper aware of the situation he's in. There are four of them, clad in armor and armed with truncheons and handcuffs. Zuko has no weapons beside his bending and hand to hand skills, weakened by poor nutrition and his trips to the coolers. He's at a distinct disadvantage but he's not about to go down without a fight.

The guard chuckles and gives him a mocking bow. “Your highness. I do hope your accommodations have been to your liking.” Zuko glares at him but doesn't respond. “I imagine they're suitably fit for a traitor such as yourself.”

Zuko's eyes narrow. “I'm not a traitor. You don't know anything about me.”

The guard sneers. “Is that so? Are you saying that you didn't abandon your country to join the Avatar then? Are you saying the Firelord is a liar?”

Zuko's mouth twists in disgust and he speaks before he can stop himself. “I'd say worse than that. You don't know anything about the man you follow. The Firelord doesn't give a damn about you, or me, or the Fire Nation. All he wants is power and control and the only person he cares about is himself. We're all just tiles on a pai sho board to him.”

The guard grins. Zuko's just given him all the permission he needs to do whatever it is he has planned. “Sounds like treason to me, don't you agree boys?” There's a muttering of agreement from the other guards in the room. A hand darts out faster than Zuko had expected. He's not fast enough to avoid the blow and his head snaps to the side as the guard backhands him hard across the face. The blow stings and causes him to bite the inside of his cheek, filling his mouth with blood. “You'd better watch your mouth, filth,” the guard warns.

Zuko glares back and spits in the guards face. He's high on adrenaline now, every nerve on edge. His body hums as he gets ready to fight for his life. The guard wipes the bloody saliva from his face and glares menacingly. He's furious now. “I think we need to teach this traitor some respect.” The other guards smirk and mutter but the blood is pounding too loud in Zuko's ears to hear them.

Zuko laughs darkly. The Firelord had already tried and failed to teach that particular lesson. Respect has never been Zuko's strong suit, not for people like this, like Ozai, bullies. The next time the guard raises his hand to Zuko, he's ready. He catches the guards wrist and twists it sharply, stopping the man in his tracks. Zuko follows it up with a fist to the man's stomach. The guard doubles over, winded, but the other guards surge forward to protect their leader. Zuko went into this fight knowing he was at a disadvantage, but he's willing to fight to the death, something he doubts is true for the rest of them.

A guard moves in on his left hand side, striking too fast for Zuko to avoid the blow once he realizes it's coming at him. His head snaps to the side as a fist meets his cheek. “You better watch your mouth, filth.” He strikes out at the man who'd dealt the blow but he dances back before it lands. The guard looks furious. The four men are ringed around him, cornering him. The guards smirk and mutter as they converge on him.

Zuko strikes, landing weak kicks and blows in the confined space, but there are four of them and only one of him and it's no use. He lashes out with his fire, an uncontrolled poorly executed maneuver meant to drive them back. He hears one man hiss as the flames make contact with his skin, but the fire is dispersed before it can do much damage. A fist to his gut doubles him over, gasping to catch his breath. Hands grab his shoulders and throw him to the floor and a boot connects painfully with his side making him curl in on himself for protection. Another boot strikes his back. He curls his arms over his head as the blows rain down. It doesn't last long before he's being pulled to his feet, head spinning.

He tries feebly to pull away, to fight back, but his whole body aches and he can't get enough force behind his attacks. He twists and thrashes as much as he can, trying to break his captors hold on him but they grip him tight, slamming him up against the wall of the cell hard enough that his skull thuds sickeningly against the stone. A hand twists painfully in his hair and presses his cheek into the rough hewn rock. He clenches his jaw defiantly. His head is pulled back, the hand in his hair twists and his head is slammed forward again. Zuko can't help the grunt of pain that is forced out of him. He also realizes with rising panic, that the change in position means he can no longer see. His right cheek is now digging into the stonework meaning his left is facing the crowd around him, leaving him blind to their movement in the low light. He tries to push off the wall, to wriggle free, but there's someone on either side of him pinning him in place with hands to his shoulders and elbows.   
  


He wonders if this is intentional. Do they know they've taken his sight from him? Zuko hates how vulnerable it makes him feel and it's a struggle to keep his wits about him. The guard that Zuko thinks of as the leader of the group removes the fist from his hair. There's a sound of tearing cloth and Zuko feels the rough fabric of his prison shirt fall open on his back. He bucks against the hands holding him down, but it's no use. The guard orders his men to hold him steady. Panic flares in him and Zuko tries to fight with renewed vigor, but it's useless. A palm presses between his naked shoulder blades and Zuko wants to cringe away.

It's almost a relief when he feels the cold hard bite of steel at his back. Physical pain is something he can handle. He clenches his teeth until he thinks they could crack as his back erupts in pain. He struggles not to cry out even as tears well up in his eyes and his breaths come in panting ragged gasps. He's determined not to give them the satisfaction. He doesn't quite know what's happening, only that it feels like he's being flayed alive. Whatever they're doing, it's methodical, one stroke of the blade, a pause, another. After the first few cuts he's unable to hold back anymore and a pitiful whimper escapes his lips as silent tears streak his face.

The guards behind him snicker and laugh at his less than dignified sniveling. “Not so cocky now, are you, traitor?”

The hand with the knife streaks another cut across his back. Eventually the knife stops and Zuko can't help but sag in relief. It's short lived. He lets out a strangled cry as something is poured over his back, making the mangled flesh burn and sting. The guards chuckle. “We wouldn't want those to get infected before we send you back to the Firelord, now would we?” A chill runs through him, the thought of seeing the Firelord again doing more to unsettle him than anything they've done thus far.

The hands holding him still don't leave, but he's pulled away from the wall and manhandled onto the prison cot. He's forced onto his stomach and hands start tugging at his what remains of his clothes. A wave of nausea crashes over him. He's trained so hard to avoid this, but in the moment of truth the fight leaves him. He knows what's coming and he knows he's powerless to fight back. It will only be worse if he does. He knows.

Hands grope and prod and pull at him and he retreats into the safety of his mind, waiting for it to be over. Dimly, he's aware of the familiar sting of pain and the feeling of discomfort as he's used and violated, but if he tries hard enough he can lose himself in his head and he can pretend it isn't happening to him. He squeezes his eyes shut and divorces himself from their grunts of pleasure and his own pained cries and whimpers that fill the cell as the men each take their turn.

He doesn't know how long his tormentors are there. It could have lasted for minutes or hours for all he knows. He lays there, still and unmoving for several long minutes after the hands release him from their grip and the door to his cell clangs shut with an air of finality. He comes back to himself slowly. It hurts to move. Bruises blossom over his torso. It hurts to breathe bad enough that he wonders if they'd cracked his ribs when they kicked him. His back is in agony and every little movement pulls at the forming scabs reopening the wounds. He hurts elsewhere too, more then it's ever hurt before. He feels disgusting and dirty and there's something wet on his thighs that he doesn't want to think about because it could be blood or something else and neither possibility is good. He shifts gingerly onto his side so that his back is facing the wall and gently pulls his legs up. Pain flares with every little movement and he wants to retch but manages not to.

There's no water to cleanse the filth from him and in the moment that almost feels worse than what's happened. He reaches down, snagging the rough linen pants twisted around his ankles and pulls them back up over his hips. Covering himself is the only comfort he can manage and he'll take it. He doesn't fall asleep so much as passes out from pain and exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gone over the beginning of this chapter several times and it still feels a bit choppy. My apologies. Hopefully it's still readable to all the wonderful readers who have stuck with me so far.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was editing this (and writing later chapters) I realized that there's some unintentional Zuki peppered in throughout the entirety of the story and it kind of starts here so if you're into that, enjoy. This is not a shipping fic though so... don't get too hopeful about blossoming romance.

Zuko doesn't know how long he's been asleep when he's awoken by the clanging of his cell door, only that it hasn't been long enough. His eyes shoot open at the sound and he moves to sit up, momentarily forgetting about the injuries that litter his body. He's quickly reminded as he feels the tightness in his back loosen and erupt into pain as the movement reopens the freshly scabbed over wounds. Sitting hurts for more than one reason, but he bites his cheek and ignores the discomfort it causes. He won't face his tormentors lying down. A guard that enters and tosses a clean set of prison clothes onto the cot next to him. He barks at Zuko to change. Zuko doesn't recognize the man. He hadn't expected to. The light had been poor the night before and the guards had been smart enough to keep their visors down. Zuko breathes a sigh of relief when he leaves, affording a brief moment of privacy to do what he needs to.

It's easy enough to pull the tatters of his shirt off. Putting the new one on in another matter entirely. His flayed back pulls uncomfortably as he moves and hisses at the stretch and sting of his back as he pulls the shirt over his head. Changing his pants is physically easier but mentally more difficult. He can't avoid the smears of blood staining his pale skin or the dried semen flaking off from between his legs as he moves. He scrubs at it with his soiled trousers, wishing he had soap and water.

He dresses and takes care of his needs, wincing at how much he hurts... there. They hadn't been nearly as careful as Ozai. The thought springs unbidden in his mind and it makes him want to vomit. No sooner has he finished all of this then the guard is back with a tray of the same tasteless slop as before. He eats mechanically. His stomach protests but he forces himself to keep the food down. He needs to keep up his strength if hopes to survive this.

After breakfast he's marched to another area of the prison and handed a mop and a bucket and ordered to clean the floors with several other prisoners. Suki just happens to be one of them. He knows it isn't fair, but a tiny part of Zuko resents her for being here. It says she's the reason he's in this predicament at all. He knows that isn't really true, but he can't help it. Sokka finds the two of them later. Zuko's been trying to give Suki a wide berth but he can't any longer. Sokka pulls them aside behind a set of stairs to discuss their plan. Suki gives him a weak half smile that Zuko doesn't return as they're introduced. Zuko doesn't want to make nice, he just wants to get out.

Sokka explains his plan. He wants to use the cooler as a boat to cross the lake. It sounds ridiculous, but Zuko is desperate enough to try anything. The biggest problem is the cooler itself. The bolts holding it to the outer wall are on the inside. The only way to unscrew them is for one of them to get thrown inside and since Zuko's the only firebender, he's the only one that can do it. He's already weak from hunger and the beating he'd received the night before, not to mention his previous stints in the coolers. He isn't sure how long his breath of fire will hold out and even if he manages to unscrew the bolts he doesn't think he'll have the strength to help Sokka get it down to the water. He doesn't see any other option though, so he agrees. Sokka leaves first, to avoid suspicion, then Suki and Zuko. He goes back to mopping the floors, going over the plan in his head and hoping it works.

He isn't given lunch. He isn't sure if the other prisoners are similarly missing out and this is a regular occurrence, or if it's a special punishment just for him to keep him as docile as possible. The missing meals make his stomach hurt, but the lack of water is driving him mad. He hasn't had anything to drink since breakfast and the heat of the prison has him sweating profusely. His throat is dry and sore and he's sure he'll collapse of heat stroke if he doesn't get something soon.

As much as he would rather avoid the Earth Kingdom girl, she knows this place better than he does. He makes his way over to Suki and asks her about water rations. She gives him a wry look and continues to mop the same spot of floor she's been going over for the last five minutes. “You'll have to ask one of the guards or wait until the evening meal.” So, it isn't just him missing lunch after all. “They like to control us. They're entertained by making us beg for necessities.” She sounds bitter and there's a hardness to her eyes that Zuko finds... relatable. It seems eerily familiar.

Zuko goes back to work, intent on not giving in to the games the guards are playing. It doesn't last long. His head has started to pound and his mouth is impossibly dry. He's sure he'll collapse if he doesn't get water soon. Eventually his thirst wins out and he sucks up his disdain and approaches the nearest guard. He refuses to meet the man's gaze as he asks, as politely as he can muster, for a cup of water. He's met with a snort of derision. The guard tilts his head to where Zuko left his mop and bucket. “Looks like you got plenty of water right there. Help yourself.”

Zuko feels his face pull into a scowl and he wrinkles his nose in disgust. “I don't need mop water, I need something to drink.” There's a bite in Zuko's tone. He's never been good at holding his temper. The guard just raises his eyebrow and Zuko turns away. “Forget it.”

Zuko doesn't even know the guard had moved until he grabs Zuko's shirt, fingers raking his back in the process, and shoves him toward the bucket of murky water. Pain explodes across his back and causes him to cry out. The guard lands a kick to the back of Zuko's knee, making his leg fold beneath him. He goes down, knees hitting the floor painfully. A hand twists in his hair reminiscent of the way it had the night before and Zuko instinctively tries to pull away. The guard tightens his grip, dragging him several feet until he's kneeling in front of his abandoned mop bucket.

Without warning he's forced down, face first, into the dirty water. His hands grip instinctively at the edge of the container, trying futilely to push his head above the surface. It's no use. He doesn't have the leverage to free himself. His panic is using up his oxygen too fast and he can't hold his breath any longer. Unwittingly his mouth opens and is instantly flooded with foul water. His head breaks the surface and he gasps for air and is promptly dunked under once again. Water floods him once more, some of it snaking its way into his lungs. He's sure he's going to die. He's thrashing uncontrollably. His body tries to cough to get the water out even as the act forces more water in. He's pulled free once more, coughing violently. The respite lasts longer this time and he thinks it might be over but he's soon forced under again.

Zuko feels the fight going out of him. He won't last much longer. There's too much water and he can't stop trying to cough it out and gasp it in. He feels his body beginning to still when one last yank on his hair has him out of the water and choking in a puddle on the ground. He rolls to his side, sputtering and spewing out water. His ribs throb and his lungs burn as he sucks in breath after breath in between each wracking violent cough.

A mop clatters to the floor in front of him. “Get back to work.” The guard is already walking away, his voice drifting through the suddenly still room. His sputtering dies down slowly and he no longer feels like he's drowning. He sits up dripping on the floor, sucking in breath after wonderful breath, and wishes he could kill the guard without ruining their chance of escaping. A hand settles on his shoulder and he flinches away. His anger lessens as he whips his head around to find Suki crouching next to him with an apologetic smile, holding a cup.

“Sorry.”

Zuko shakes his head. “It's not your fault.” His voice is raspier than usual and speaking sends him into another coughing fit.

Suki brushes wet hair form his face and thumps him on the back. Zuko screams and her eyes go wide with shock. She reaches out a hand but stops halfway, unsure what's wrong and if she would be helping or hurting in this situation. “What's wrong? What did I-”

Zuko grits his teeth. “It's nothing. Don't worry about it. Just, don't touch me. Please.”

Concern flashes across her face, but Suki drops her hand and acquiesces. “Sure. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

Zuko ignores the apology. “It's nothing. I'll be fine. I just need a minute.”

She nods wordlessly. Once Zuko's posture has relaxed, she offers up the cup she'd been holding onto. “Here.” Zuko accepts it thoughtlessly before realizing that he's now holding the prize that had gotten him into this most recent mess.

“I should have warned you.” Suki explains guiltily and shrugs. “Once you've been here a while you figure out which guards you can kind of trust and which ones to avoid.” She shoots a murderous look at the retreating guard who seems to have found someone else to harass. “He's one of the worst.” There's a brief pause before she adds, “on the day shift at least.”

There's another glimpse of... something... in her eyes. Zuko pointedly ignores it and sips at the water. It's lukewarm and not quite as refreshing as he's sure it would have been ten minutes ago, but it still manages to be soothing as it trickles down his parched, sore throat. If only it could ease the gnawing ache of hunger in his stomach.

Suki stands and offers him her hand. He takes it and she helps him to his feet. He mumbles a stilted thank you and she smiles. “Let me know if you need anything else, and if I'm not around, try one of the female guards next time. A lot of them aren't as bad. Isaki is decent if you can find her,” she tilts her head in the direction of a guard he assumes is Isaki.” Zuko can't understand how Suki manages to pretend to be so cheerful if his suspicions about her time here are correct. She retrieves his mop from where it had been tossed on the floor and hands it to him. “Here. You better get back to work if you don't want to attract any more attention.” Zuko takes it from her and returns to the monotonous task of mopping. An hour later a bell rings alerting the prisoners that it's time to return to their cells.

Dinner is served to the prisoners in their cells. The guard who delivers it drops the tray to the floor, causing the cup to tip over and spill its precious contents. He rushes to right it, but the damage is done and there's only half a sip remaining in the bottom. Dinner is the same thin porridge as breakfast with the addition of a few paltry slices of tomato carrot. He forces the tasteless slop down and sets the emptied dishes on the tray by the door and lies down to try and sleep.

He isn't sure how long ago he'd finally passed out, but the creak of the door opening wakes him with a jolt. He sits up automatically, wincing at the way his whole body seems to protest the action. There's only one of them tonight. Zuko figures they probably think he's been beaten down enough not to fight back. He isn't about to warn them of their mistake. He'll kill the man if he has to, but they won't get their satisfaction from him tonight. The guard closes the door behind him and removes his helmet. Relief washes over Zuko when he sees his friend's face. The relief fades as it occurs to Zuko that there could be others on their way at any time and he definitely doesn't want Sokka to fin out what had happened the night before. “What are you doing here,” he hisses.

Sokka looks taken aback by his tone. “I just wanted to check in on you, make sure you were doing ok.” He sounds defensive. “I was going to stop by last night but there were, like, four guards outside your cell.”

Zuko's blood goes cold and his heart drops to his stomach. Sokka was there. What had he heard, how much does he know? “What did you see?” The words tumble out before he can think about them.

Sokka looks concerned. “Nothing. They were just standing around. I thought it was because you're such a high profile prisoner.” Sokka's eyes narrowed. “Why? Did you get into a fight or something? We're supposed to be trying to keep a low profile!”

The scolding tone in Sokka's voice makes Zuko's blood boil. It's clear that Sokka doesn't know what he's had to deal with, but that doesn't make him any less angry in the heat of the moment. “So I'm supposed to just sit there and take whatever they do?”

Sokka is taken aback. “Of course not! I-”

“They came to rough me up a bit so I fought back.”

Sokka's peering at him closely now, eyes darting over every inch of bare skin, taking in each visible cut and bruise that he hadn't paid attention to earlier. His brow twists in concern. “Are you ok?”

Zuko's calming down now. He doesn't have the energy to stay angry about a misunderstanding. “I'm fine,” he lies. It's the only lie he's ever been good at telling. He's had a lot of practice after all.

It must be convincing because Sokka lets it go. “Speaking from experience, I'm sure you put up a hell of a fight. They won't try that again anytime soon.” He peeks out the window in the cell door before turning back. “I should get going before a patrol comes by. Remember the plan tomorrow.” Zuko nods. “Oh!” Sokka rummages around in his tunic and pulls out a folded rectangle of paper which he proffers to Zuko and explains. “I saved some jerky from dinner. I saw what they've been feeding you guys and I figured you'd need it more than I do.” Zuko takes it with a word of thanks before Sokka sneaks out for the night.

Zuko contemplates whether he should eat it now or save it before he ends up tucking the precious parcel under the edge of his mattress. Eating it now is a risk. If he has any more visitors tonight there's no guarantee he wouldn't end up throwing it up. It's safer to wait and save it for the morning meal. He manages to settle back into a light restless sleep that goes thankfully unmolested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping to have your regularly "scheduled" chapter up next week, but I decided to change a whole section which had a bit of a ripple effect and now I'm having anxiety that it won't be any good so, bear with me while I work out the kinks and rewrite and try to convince myself it's worth posting. If there is a delay, that's likely why.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning follows the same routine. He's brought a change of clothes and a meager meal. He's thankful for the jerky Sokka's gifted him. It isn't much, but he savors each bite as the smoky heat of chili and pepper makes his tongue tingle pleasantly. His injuries still hurt and sting when he moves, but at least the throbbing ache in his backside is nearly gone. Again he's taken from his cell directly to his work detail without being given access to bathing facilities or even so much as a clean damp cloth. He wonders if forcing prisoners to live day in and day out coated in sticky sweat and smelling the stench of their own bodies is part of their punishment or if the basic decency of being clean is something else they're expected to grovel for. At least he imagines the filth will make the thought of touching him less than appealing. He doesn't think he'll ever feel truly clean anyway.

Not long after he makes his way to his work detail, the plan goes into effect. He sees Sokka give the signal and he ducks into the hidden alcove they chose the day before. Sokka hands him the wrench and Zuko tucks it into his waistband, cinching his rope belt tight to keep it from slipping and obscuring it with his shirt. Now all he has to do is get himself thrown into the coolers. It isn't hard. The guards have it out for the prisoners, even the smallest infraction can have consequences if they're bored enough. He picks a fight with another prisoner. He feels a little bad when they're both carted off to the coolers, but he keeps his mind on the plan.

The plan falls apart when they get there. The warden is waiting. “I should have known you'd be trouble, Prince Zuko. No matter. You won't be my problem for much longer. But, until then, maybe an extended stay in the coolers will teach you a lesson.” He turns to the guards escorting Zuko. “Shackle his hands and feet. Leave him in there for three hours and post a guard outside the door. Maybe that will teach this scum where he stands here.”

Even the guard seems shocked. “Three hours, sir?”

The warden glares hard at him. “Did I stutter?”

“N-no, sir.” His legs are shackled and his arms are wrenched behind him and a pair of iron cuffs locked tightly around his wrists. In the process, they find the wrench he'd tucked into his pants. The guard pulls it out and hands it to the warden who eyes him with a sneer. “Well well well, planning to escape were you?” He turns back to the guard. Flog him first, ten lashes ought to teach him a lesson.” To Zuko he sneers, “kneel like the dog you are.” He's hardly even given time to comply before a fist slams into him, doubling him over and he's pushed to his knees. Seconds later the first lash of the flogger strikes his back. He screams out, even with his shirt providing a thin barrier the blow is hard enough to tear open his wounds. After several more hard strikes he isn't surprised if it's left a few of its own. By the time he's shoved into the ice box and the door slams shut his back is awash with pain and he can feel the sluggish drip of blood or sweat or likely both as it runs down his back.

The hot sweat chills on his skin and quickly freezes. He imagines the blood dripping down his back is doing the same. Zuko sits on the floor and pulls his legs up. It's the best he can do to keep his core warm but he knows that he won't be able to hold the position forever, not without leaning against the walls and that's not an option. He tries to stay calm. He needs to conserve his energy.

His breath of fire holds out for longer than he thought it would. He sends a silent prayer of thanks to Sokka for the extra food. Still, he's shaking and miserable and unable to do much to keep warm after a time. His fire-breath doesn't warm him nearly as much as it needs to. By the time the door to the cooler opens, he's practically unconscious. He doesn't remember the trip back to his cell, doesn't remember being tucked into bed.

He wakes up, still cold and stiff and unbelievably sore, under the blankets with a body curled around him. The realization makes him panic and he tries to throw them off only to realize that he hardly has the strength to bat at them. Strong hands wrap around his wrists, stilling them and Sokka's face swims into view. It's only then that he considers that he's still clothed, as is Sokka sans armor, and that he's warmer than he has been in what seems like ages.

“Whoa. Calm down buddy.”

The fight's gone out of him anyway. He simply doesn't have the energy. “I couldn't get the bolts off.” It's the first thing that comes to mind.  
  
“That doesn't matter!” Sokka seems upset now. “Zuko, by the time I got you out of there you were unconscious. You could have died and it would have been all my fault. Forget the cooler. We'll come up with something else. I'm not letting you go back there.” Zuko isn't sure how to take that. He's thankful that Sokka cares, but they need to get out and Zuko just ruined their only chance. Any day now he could be sent back to Caldera and then all hope will be gone.

Now that he's more alert, Sokka's proximity is getting to be too much. “Can you... move?”

“Oh! Sorry.” Sokka shuffles himself back a little, but it isn't far enough.

Zuko sighs. “Can ... can you get off of me? Why are you in my bed anyway?” He's sure Sokka has his reasons and that they aren't the same as what he's used to... but it doesn't matter. He can't stand the other boy touching him... not without his permission, and not right now.

Sokka lets go of Zuko's hand and then presses his fingers to the firebender's neck. Zuko pushes at him. “Ok ok. I'm just checking your temperature. Calm down. I guess you're warmed up enough that I don't have to worry so much now. I was worried you had hypothermia.” Sokka slips off of the bed and Zuko feels himself relax. “You're lucky this place is so warm, but I snuck you an extra blanket anyway.” Zuko wraps them around his shoulders as Sokka digs through the pile of armor on the floor. He returns holding another bundle. “Here. I brought you some more jerky too. Now that you're doing better I should probably get going before someone notices that I've been gone so long. I'll check on you later and bring you more food.”

“Thanks.” Sokka readjusts his armor and leaves Zuko to huddle beneath his blankets. After some time he starts to slowly feel stronger than he had when he'd woken. He sits up, still bundled in warmth, and opens the packet that Sokka had left him. He eats slowly, relishing each bite.

Sokka returns later with his dinner tray, setting it beside Zuko on the cot. There are several pieces of jerky beside the usual bowl of slop and the cup that usually holds his water is gently steaming. Zuko takes a tentative sip and gives his friend a weak smile as the green tea warms him from the inside out. “I have some good news.” Sokka wastes no time in getting straight to the point. “There's a new group of prisoners coming in on tomorrow's transport.” Zuko eats while Sokka talks. “My dad could be on it. I heard one of the guards say there were some war prisoners.”

“That's great,” really, it is. It'd be nice if something good could come of this train-wreck of a rescue attempt after all. But... “we still need a plan to figure out how to get out.”

“That's the thing,” Sokka says excitedly, “he can help us us come up with a new plan.”

Zuko doesn't want to burst his friend's bubble, but he needs Sokka to be realistic. “And if he isn't? We can't just hope he'll be there. We need to come up with something soon. We can't wait much longer.” He hates to admit it, but he has to be realistic too, “I'm not sure how long I can last in here Sokka. The warden has it out for me, and even if he didn't it won't be long before he notifies my father and I'm sent back to the capital to stand trial. Time is a luxury we don't have.”

“You think I don't know that?!” It's the angriest Zuko's seen him since he joined them. “I'm not oblivious. I know we need to leave. I wouldn't put you and Suki in this position if I didn't have to, but we don't have any other plans. I'm doing my best trying to come up with something but my last plan was a bust. There's no way we're getting out tonight so at the very least I can hope that this hasn't been a complete mess.” He stands to leave. “I'll keep trying to come up with something and if you have any ideas I'd love to hear them. In the mean time, I'm going to hope my dad shows up tomorrow and we'll figure this out together.” He leaves without another word.

Zuko sleeps fitfully. It's funny how suddenly this change has come about. Before the only interruptions to his sleep had been the nightmares. Now, he finds sleep elusive and fragile. In the palace he'd known when to expect the worst. Ozai had never come for him, Zuko had always been summoned. Here, every clang of a door, every shuffling footstep outside his cell, has him alert, waiting for something to happen. It makes sense then that he's awoken suddenly the next morning. He's immediately wary as two guards enter and pull him roughly to his feet. They don't say a word as they half-drag him from his cell. He tries to pull away but their grip is too tight and he doesn't have the strength to break away. He tries to ask where they're taking him, but his pleas fall on deaf ears. He's brought to a large room. The walls are lined with pipework and several spouts jut out from the far wall. The door clangs closed behind him and the guards take their positions on either side.

One of them nods to a basket in the corner while the other pulls something small from a closet in the wall. “Strip and put your clothes in the basket,” he instructs. Zuko's eyes narrow and he falls naturally into a fighting stance even though he knows he would be on the ground before he's able to throw his first punch. The guard at the closet laughs. “Settle down.” His eyes sweep Zuko top to bottom, “you don't have anything we're interested in. He tosses the bundle he's holding at Zuko who catches it more on reflex than anything else. It's a rag wrapped around a sliver of soap. “The Warden wants you cleaned up. We have special visitors coming tomorrow.

Zuko thinks those are the most terrifying words they could have said. There are only two people he can think of that the warden would want to put on his best appearances for and neither are good. Either his father has been notified of Zuko's stupidity and is coming to collect him himself, or he's sent Azula to do his dirty work for him like he's done before.

In any case, they've officially run out of time.

“Hurry up,” one of the guards grumbles. “We don't have all day. You can do it yourself or we can do it for you, your choice.” There's no way they're laying a finger on him if Zuko can help it. He takes a deep breath and starts to pull his shirt over his head only to cry out as it pulls where the blood and open wounds have glued it to his back. There's a curse from one of the guards and squealing from the pipes before water starts flowing from the shower heads along the wall.

The sudden spray of lukewarm water hitting him makes Zuko gasp in surprise. He stands under the stream for several long seconds, letting the water soak into his clothes. Soon the crust of blood on his back has loosened enough for him to peel the shirt off with a sharp intake of breath and a grunt of pain. He drops it with a wet plop and pushes his pants down his thighs, letting them fall to a puddle around his ankles. He shoves aside a wave of nausea as he's reminded of all the times he's stripped himself before, complicit in his own torture. He reminds himself that this isn't that, at least it doesn't appear to be. Instead, it's finally an opportunity to rid himself of he filth he's worn for days. He walks his discarded clothing to the basket and drops them in.

The guards have stopped paying attention to him and have turned to each other to chat like he isn't even in the room. There's a sense of relief in their disinterest. Zuko steps back into the spray. The water runs in rivulets down his abused body, soothing bruised skin and stinging torn flesh. There's a feeling of relief as it cleanses the grime and filth away even as the gentle pounding of the water on his back is a fresh torment all its own. As unpleasant as it is, he refuses to turn his back on the two men in the room with him. Life had long ago taught Zuko the cruel lesson that men can't be trusted.

He glances at them periodically as he scrubs the rag over his body and works the soap into a lather in his greasy, tangled hair. He works his hands through the knots, doing his best to pick them apart without a comb. Suds and pink tinged water swirl along the floor and disappear into a drain. “Time's almost up. I suggest you rinse off quick.” Zuko heeds their orders, rinsing the soap out as thoroughly as he can before the water cuts out. One of the men approaches him and thrusts a bundle into his arms, clean clothing. He isn't given the luxury of a towel so he pulls the pants on while still wet and slips his feet into the prison slippers. He squeezes as much water out of his hair as possible before the guards approach to escort him out. He hasn't been given a shirt and when he asks why the guard raises an eyebrow and says he'd just bleed all over it anyway.

They march him down the desolate hall to another nondescript door. The guard gives a sharp knock and it's opened to reveal a middle aged man who looks more like a scholar than a prison official. Zuko is ushered inside and made to sit on one of four cots arranged along the walls on either side of the door. “Kaji, the warden wants you to patch this one up as best you can. He needs to be presentable tomorrow.” The little man looks Zuko over perfunctorily and hurries to the cabinet at the back of the room, pulling out jars and bottles and bandages.

He returns, setting the items he'd gathered on a small table beside the cot and pulls up a stool. He reminds Zuko of a bird, the way he perches on the edge of it, and examines Zuko more closely. He prods the swollen flesh of Zuko's cheek, presses gentle fingers over his ribs, eliciting sharp gasps as they trace over a few more tender areas. Zuko winces as deft fingers brush the dark bruises on his chest and sides. The physician finishes his examination by listening to Zuko's chest before asking him to turn around. Zuko pulls his legs onto the cot and twists himself around so that his back is to the doctor. There's no mistaking the sharp intake of breath and Zuko can't help but wonder how bad it really is. The man doesn't touch Zuko's back. He sounds exceptionally unhappy when he finally speaks. “You're lucky his ribs aren't broken. As it is, several are bruised and one or two might even be fractured, not to mention the poor boy's back. What happened here?”

The guards are unfazed. One of them shrugs, unperturbed. “Don't look at us. This is our first time having anything to do with the brat.

Zuko can't see the physician behind him, but he hears him make an unsatisfied noise at their answer before continuing on. “Well, there's not much I can do for the bruising, but I have some balms that will help bring the swelling down and numb the pain a bit.” He seemed to be speaking to Zuko. “You'll need stitches for some of those cuts on your back. Most of them will probably be fine given some time to heal, but a few are deep enough that the tissue won't heal right on its own. It's lucky infection hasn't set in, though some of the marks are a bit red around the edges. I have ointments that should take care of that though. I'll make up a mild sedative so I can stitch you up with minimal discomfort.”

“No!” Zuko twists around to look at the healer who seems taken aback by the outburst. “I don't need it. Just... do what you have to do.”

The man, Kaji, seems unhappy about the suggestion. “Young man, I must insist-”

“I can handle it. I don't want any sedatives.”

The man glances back at the guards with a withering look, but relents to Zuko's requests. “Fine. If you insist.” The physician goes back to the cupboard at the back and retrieves several more items, laying them on the table with the rest of it. “I'll have to clean the wounds thoroughly first,” he explains as he uncorks a bottle which smells pungently of antiseptic. “I'll be as gentle as I can, but I'm afraid it won't be pleasant in any event.” Zuko sets his jaw and clenches his hands into fists as the healer presses a wet cloth against the shredded skin of his back. Even though Zuko has done his best to brace himself, the stinging burn of the liquid has him practically panting short shallow breaths though he keeps from crying out. His back feels on fire by the time each laceration has been meticulously cleaned and the now bloodied cloth set aside.

“I'll need you to lie down on your stomach now so I can stitch you up.” Kaji instructs. Zuko freezes. He has to tell himself that this isn't what the voice in the back of his head keeps whispering it is. He knows the healer is being practical, but he can't seem to make himself move. He's too caught up in his own head to hear the conversation flowing around him. As such, it comes as an unwelcome shock when he's seized by either arm and and forced face down on the bed by the guards. Zuko's instincts kick in and he begins to thrash. The hands holding him press him flat. He tries to get his legs under him but he can't.

A voice next to his ear finally breaks through his stupor. “Calm yourself, boy. I need to stitch up your back and I need you to lie flat for that. Nothing untoward is going to happen in this room. I promise you. If you won't lie still I'll have to use the sedative. Do you understand?”

Zuko reluctantly stops fighting and nods. The hands holding him down relinquish their grip. “I won't lie and say this isn't going to hurt, but I'll work as quickly as I can. Now, hold still.” Zuko fists his hands in the sheets. He's used to this, used to gripping the sheets like a lifeline and biting back discomfort and pain. He doesn't make a sound as the needle pierces his skin over and over again, the thread dragging uncomfortably at his skin and pulling it taut. Through it all Zuko remains stoic the way he'd learned to be.

It feels like forever before the doctor ties off the last stitch and applies a thick layer of ointment to the whole of his back before allowing him to sit up. He chooses a different salve and massages it into the discolored, swollen areas of his skin and wraps a thick layer of bandages around his torso to keep everything clean and protected. When he's done, the guards hand Zuko a clean shirt and he's taken back to his cell.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit of a beast to write. I ended up changing the entire escape during the second draft because I realized I was sticking a little too close to canon and after some excited comments wondering what might happen I felt it would be a bit of a let down and I wasn't challenging myself enough. So I went with something I had considered but ended up scrapping initially. It's probably better than it would have been otherwise. During editing I ended up scrapping a whole lot of what I had originally written during the meeting between Zuko and his special visitor too. I have to say, I kind of like where I ended up taking it after the edits better than what I had written in the first place. I hope you guys like it too.

Zuko continues to be thrown off balance when he's brought a midday meal of weak tea, rice, and a few tiny pieces of spiced meat, likely leftovers from the officers mess hall but still better than most of what he's had the last few days. He would like to be able to enjoy his change in luck... but it just makes him nervous. Something is coming, and this is the calm before the storm.

Sokka makes his way to Zuko's cell just before lights out. This time he doesn't bother slipping inside. Instead, Zuko meets him by the door and they speak through the observation window set into the top. Sokka seems excited as he relates the good news that his father had made it to the prison and that they're working on a plan to escape. It isn't very fleshed out, but Sokka figures they might have a chance if they can grab a hostage and set up a distraction so that the group can make it to the gondola in time to get away. Theoretically, it's not a bad plan. Still, Zuko's doubtful that a hostage will get them across the lake alive. Even if having a hostage prevents the warden from dumping them all into the lake there's still the problem of whoever is coming for Zuko to be considered. He has no way of knowing who to expect or when. Without that information, they can't plan the escape around it. Zuko just barely has time to let Sokka know about the unforeseen snag before a pair of guards come and shoo Sokka away from the cell.

The guards take up positions outside and Zuko isn't sure at first if he should be relieved or worried. The answer comes shortly when he hears the voices of the guards that had visited him before arguing with the men guarding his cell. He breathes a sigh of relief when they're turned away and he hears them grumbling as they stalk off. He almost has a decent nights sleep for the first time since that night. The only thing that interrupts him tonight are the nightmares, but he's used to them by now.

The next morning Sokka comes by at breakfast and tells Zuko to meet him in the yard in an hour. There's no news yet of his mysterious visitor. As long as they don't arrive for another hour and a half or so the plan could work. He allows himself to hope that they can pull it off, so of course everything goes wrong at the worst possible moment. A pair of guards drags Zuko from his cell toward the interrogation rooms Not long after Sokka's leaves. Their time has run out. A guard standing outside of one of the doors opens it and Zuko is shoved unceremoniously inside. He trips over the threshold and lands sprawled over the wooden chair bolted to the floor in the center of the room. He lets out a grunt of pain as his already bruised ribs take the brunt of the impact. “I didn't do anything!” He shouts behind him as the door closes.

“Come on, Zuko. We both know that's a lie.” He knows that voice. He gingerly pushes himself up and looks around the room. Mai is standing in the corner staring seemingly impassively. Zuko knows better. He can see the traces of betrayal, anger, and sadness that color her expression so minutely that only the people closest to her could ever detect them. He sits down and buries his face in his hands, unable to look at the hurt in her eyes. “You left with the Avatar with no explanation. How could you? I thought you cared about me.”

Zuko can't take it anymore. He looks at her. “I do!”

“Then why did you betray me? Why did you betray your country?” For the first time in ages the anger in her voice was crystal clear to anyone listening.

Zuko scrubs his hands over his face. She deserves an explanation but he isn't sure what to say. He can't tell her the real reason he left. He fumbles for the right words. “I'm sorry Mai. Really, I am. I didn't mean to hurt you but I couldn't stay. I wish I could explain it better, but I can't. You just have to trust that I had my reasons.”

Mai's eyes narrow. “That's not good enough, Zuko. If you have reasons then tell me. Don't shut me out!” The mask of indifference that she was struggling to hold onto shatters completely. “Was it me? Is that why you won't tell me?”

Zuko had never expected that. “What? No! It doesn't have anything to do with you. I swear. If anything it's got to do with how messed up I am. I-” He wanted to tell her that he loved her, but Zuko isn't sure he even knows what love really is, what it feels like or how to love someone properly. He won't lie to her. “I care about you, Mai. But, I had to do what was best for me. I know I should have told you, but I couldn't let you try to stop me and I didn't want to have to explain myself.”

The mask she let slip is back in an instant, cold and detached. “Do you have any idea how selfish that sounds? Do you have any idea what kind of position you left me in? We were engaged and now you've been branded a traitor. Do you have any idea what that's done to me? To my family? We're practically ruined thanks to your selfishness, Zuko.”  
  


“You think I'm selfish?” Zuko's anger is starting to get the best of him. “How dare you call me selfish. You have no idea what I've been through. If the Fire Nation wants to think I'm a traitor for running away, fine! But they're wrong. I love my people, but the Firelord is a monster and his rein of terror needs to stop. I might be a coward but that's the only thing I'm guilty of.”

Mai looks like she's been struck. “How can you say that? He's your father. He's your Firelord. How could you turn against him so easily?”

Zuko laughs bitterly. “You really believe that don't you?”

Mai has never been as expressive as she is now. The shock on her face is clear. “It's not my place to question him. He's the Firelord! I'm sure there are reasons that he does what he does.”

“Reasons,” Zuko says bitterly. “You think he needs a reason to do anything when he has people like you who will bend to his every whim without question? You think I should respect him? Obey him? Why?” He's practically shouting now. “Why should I respect the man that maimed me. He doesn't care about me. He doesn't care about the Fire Nation. He's the selfish one. He only cares about power and glory and watching people cower at his feet. I'm not going to stand there and take it anymore. You think being Firelord is a justification for his actions? He shouldn't be Firelord in the first place.”

“Zuko,” there's a warning in her voice but Zuko is done listening.

“I was there when he petitioned Firelord Azulon for my uncle's birthright. I was there when he was refused. Do you think it's coincidence that my grandfather died that same night?”

Mai actually looks conflicted, like she isn't sure what to believe anymore. “You were a child. Maybe you misheard. Maybe you misunderstood-” She sounds like she's trying to come up with any flimsy excuse she can to put the broken pieces of the world she thought she knew back into place.

“No! I didn't. You don't know him like I do Mai. Trust me,” he adds bitterly. “He's a monster. Nothing will ever be enough for him. He doesn't deserve to be Firelord. I'm doing what I have to to correct that. You can call me a traitor all you want, you can think I'm selfish. I can't stop you. But I have to do this. It's for the best, for the Fire Nation and the world.” Quietly, almost too quiet to hear, he adds, “and for me.”

Mai doesn't have a chance to argue with him any further before a guard bursts through the door shouting about a riot in the yard and instructions to protect Mai. This is it, the escape is happening now and Zuko needs to get to the yard and join up with Sokka or his one chance will be lost forever. He jumps up, kicking the door shut on the guard and spinning around to grab a still stricken Mai. Their conversation must have shaken her more than he'd thought. That little trick would never have worked otherwise. He pins her arms to her sides, slipping a hand into her belt and retrieving one of her throwing daggers which he presses lightly to her throat.

“What do you think you're doing?” She sounds furious. He doesn't blame her, but there's no stopping now. He's committed.

“I'm doing what I have to.” He uses her as a shield as he makes his way through the prison to the yard. No one stops him and Mai doesn't put up as much of a fight as he'd expected her to. That's good. It works in his favor. He finds Sokka near the back of the prison yard with his father and Suki.

They seem surprised to see him, or rather, surprised to see Mai. Sokka sputters when he sees her. “What is she doing here?”

Zuko shrugs as nonchalantly as he can with the adrenaline from his argument with Mai still hot in his veins. “You said we needed a hostage. The warden might be willing to risk his own life, but I doubt that he'd put his niece in danger, especially since she's Azula's friend.”

Sokka considers for a moment. “Good thinking Zuko. Here.” He pulls the shackles off of his belt and hands them to Zuko who promptly fastens them around Mai's wrists. He hates to do it, but it will make her easier to deal with and give her less chance of escaping. With their hostage secured, the team makes their way to the gondola. Thanks to Sokka's riot distraction the majority of the guards are too busy to notice them. The few that do are quickly incapacitated of by Hakoda.

They make it to the gondola in record time. Zuko shoves a squirming Mai at Hakoda and shouts at them to get in. Once the gondola is loaded he sets the lever to bring it across the lake. Once the mechanism's engaged he kicks it several times for good measure until it snaps in half, ensuring they can't be stopped. Unfortunately, it's cost him precious time and the cable car has already made it a good distance from the landing platform. There's only one option. Zuko takes several steps back and sprints forward toward the edge. His aching, abused body protests as he leaps from the edge, hoping that he managed to get enough height and distance on the jump to grab a window frame. Time stands still and he thinks he'll make it just before he reaches the apex of the jump and time speeds up again as he starts to fall.

A startled Sokka leans half out the window, eyes wild, his hand reaching out for Zuko. A shout that Zuko doesn't hear falls from his lips. Zuko reaches out desperately. His fingers brush flesh and he grasps it like a lifeline. Sokka's own hand clamps around Zuko's wrist and his descent is brought to a sudden, jerking halt.. Zuko cries out as his shoulder is wrenched from it's socket and he feels several of the stitches in his back give way. He bites back the pain and scrambles through the window as Sokka and Suki pull him in. He lands in a heap on the floor clutching his shoulder.

Mai's eyes widen a fraction, betraying her concern for him even after everything, but his view of her is quickly obscured by Suki as she kneels beside him, a hand reaching out before she remembers herself and stops. “Let me see your shoulder. I think it's dislocated.” Zuko can only nod and she presses her hand against his shoulder, examining the injury. “I'll have to put it back in the socket. I'm sorry, but this might hurt.” She helps him maneuver onto his back and instructs him to take deep breaths and relax before slowly stretching his arm out to the side and rotating it up beside his head. It doesn't hurt as much as he'd thought it would and there's a release of tension as he feels the bone pop back into place.

He sits up, rubbing at his shoulder, and thanks Suki. Mai is pointedly ignoring him now. He doesn't have time to worry about her though as Sokka leans out the window and utters a horrified, “oh, no.”

Zuko scrambles to his feet and joins Sokka at the window. A group of guards are trying to jam the winch while two more are on standby with a large saw to cut the cable. There's a screech of metal as the car judders and begins to slow. There's nothing they can do from here but watch helplessly as the car comes to a halt and the guards with the saw rush over to cut the line.

It looks like this is the end. Zuko has just enough time to wonder if they'll all boil alive in the lake or if the fall itself is far enough to kill them when someone else comes rushing onto the platform. They're too far away for him to make out who it is, but the pink blur of their clothing and the way guards begin falling as the figure jumps and darts around them make him think it can only be Ty Lee. “What's she doing?” He's muttering to himself. It doesn't make any sense. The guards on the platform collapse and she knocks the levers jamming the mechanism free allowing the gondola to continue its climb to freedom.

Mai is fidgeting in the back of the gondola. They've been so caught up with what was happening on the platform that no one had been watching her. The shackles fall to the floor with a metallic clunk and she resheathes a throwing dart up her sleeve. Zuko assumes a fighting stance. He doesn't want to fight her, but he will if he has to. She looks at him with her signature bored expression. “Please, Zuko. We both know who would win ina fight.” She regards him coldly. “You aren't exactly in fighting condition right now.” She pushes past him toward the front of the gondola. As she looks out, she gasps. “What on earth is she doing?”

Sokka's the one to answer. “It looks like she's making sure they don't stop the gondola.”

Mai let out an uncharacteristic curse. “That idiot! She knows Auzla won't let her get away with this!” Zuko's never seen her so concerned before. The gears begin immediately turning in his head. If Ty Lee and Mai are here, that means Azula's here too. No sooner does he have the thought than his sister's familiar form emerges from the prison tower. He can't make out what the two girls are saying to each other, but the tense situation doesn't last long before Azula begins the first motions of her lightning form. Azula is fast but Ty Lee is faster. She dashes forward, flipping over Azula's head before taking her down with a few quick jabs to the back.

The gondola is nearly to the edge of the caldera wall now. They'll be across the lake before there's any chance of stopping the gondola again. More guards swarm out of the prison tower, pulling Azula to her feet and converging on Ty Lee. The lithe girl looks around her and without hesitation charges up the gondola cable like its a high wire.

When the car stops on the far side of the lake, Sokka and the three former prisoners dash out. A blade whizzes by Zuko's face stopping him in his tracks. “Hold it. You really think I'm just going to let you get away after that stunt you just pulled?”

Zuko didn't think Mai could look any angrier than she had in the interrogation room. He was wrong. Of course she's furious. He'd basically just broken their engagement in the worst way possible and taken her captive. Still, he tries to reason with her. They wouldn't get far with her attacking them. “I'm sorry, Mai. I was just doing what I had to. I didn't want to pull you into this, but it was the best shot we had.”

“So you really have made your choice then.” She sounds resigned, sad, as though even after everything she'd tried to hold out hope that things could somehow be repaired. She takes a deep breath and steels herself. “Goodbye, Zuko.” She raises a blade, ready to throw.

She's interrupted by Ty Lee. She jumps down from the top of the gondola and grabs Mai's wrist, trying to pull her away. When she's met with resistance she looks at Mai with wide eyes. “Come on, Mai. We have to go before Azula recovers.”

There's no mistaking the pleading in her voice and it makes Mai pause. “Why did you do it?”

Ty Lee looks at her with confusion as if the answer should be obvious. “She was going to have them cut the cable. You would have died. I couldn't let her do that to you, Mai. Now come on! There's no way she's going to let us get away with this.”

Mai gives one last long look at Zuko before turning away and following Ty Lee at a run. Finally, Zuko and his friends are free. Now they just have to get off the island and get back to the air temple. It isn't as difficult to get away as they might have thought it would be. Zuko crests a hill and looks around. There, in a flat area to his left, sits a royal airship, obviously Azula's mode of transport. He almost wonders why Mai and Ty Lee had run off in the opposite direction until he realizes that it would be much easier to track the airship than whatever method they plan on using. Besides, the airship's crew would be unlikely to leave without Azula and he doubted that either of the girls had bothered to learn how to pilot one themselves.

He points the ship out to the others and explains the plan: clear out the crew, steal it, and go home. His co-conspirators nod in understanding and they leap into action. Hakoda and Sokka take the lead, effectively clearing out the crew and incapacitating them while Zuko stokes the fires in the ships furnaces. It would be more efficient to have benders down there to control the fires, but stoking the flames now and then and shoveling in additional coal when needed will have to do. When he's done with that, he heads to the bridge and begins turning dials and flipping switches to get the ship airborne.

He gives Sokka a quick rundown of the control systems before slipping away to the ships sleeping quarters. It's been a long few days and his poor sleep and diet have caught up with him. He's no longer running purely on adrenaline and he's about to crash. He opens a door at random. There isn't much in the way of possessions to identify who the room had belonged to. That's fine. Zuko is quietly thankful for the impersonality. The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of the girl he'd just betrayed or the sister who wanted him dead.

He shuts the door and curls up on his side on the low bed. His muscles and ribs are sore. His arm still aches. His back throbs with pain from torn stitches and reopened wounds. Everything hurts and he is tired. He's hardly closed his eyes before sleep overcomes him and he's lost to his nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoyed this one. I can't wait to post next weeks chapter. It's one I really enjoyed writing and editing. If any of you liked the Suki&Zuko dynamic it should be a fun one for you.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I would normally post this on Saturday, but I'm feeling kind of aimless and restless right now and some morons have stormed my country's capitol so I figure, why not update early and make myself and maybe some others feel a little better. Just be aware this means I likely won't be posting Saturday. 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter and Zuko and Suki's interaction a lot. I hope you like it as well. 
> 
> Also, this one is a little different. First and possibly only chapter from a POV other than Zuko.

Suki is impressed as she watches Sokka's fingers dance over the console, twisting knobs and pulling levers as he pilots the massive airship toward their temporary home. Hakoda stands at his sons side, watching his movements intently as Sokka explains animatedly what each mechanism does. Suki smiles at the scene. She takes a moment to look around the room, frowning at the Fire Prince's absence. She lets it go. He's had a hard time of things lately and clearly wants to be left alone for now. She'll let him have his space. They can talk later.

They've been in the air for two hours when Sokka turns control of the airship over to his father and pulls Suki aside to seek out their stray firebender. The galley and crew quarters are empty, as is the medical bay and the engine room. Sokka takes a moment to shovel more coal into the furnace and stoke the fire before continuing their search. There's only one place left to check, the royal quarters. The doors along the corridor are all closed but they make their way down the hall, tapping softly on each one before opening them to reveal empty rooms.

Suki comes to a stop at one door in the center of the narrow corridor. She knocks softly and presses her ear to the cold metal to listen for a reply. Instead, she's met with a muffled whimper. She looks at Sokka, concern clouding her typically bright demeanor, and gives him a pained smile. “Maybe you should go help your dad with the ship.”

It's not really a suggestion, but Sokka doesn't seem to realize that. “Huh? Nah, he's fine.”

“Sokka.” The firmness in her tone seems to make Sokka understand.

“Uh... right. Yeah.” He worries at his lip. “I'll just... go check on him. See if he needs my help.” Suki smiles and gives him a peck on the cheek before he goes.

She turns back to the closed door. She doesn't know the Prince very well, but she's acquainted with the horrors of the Boiling Rock. She suspects that Zuko won't want others to see him in the state he sounds like he's in, but she also knows it can be just as difficult to be alone. Once Sokka has disappeared down the hall and around a corner Suki tests the handle to Zuko's door. She's a little surprised to find that he hasn't bothered to lock it, but she figures that he must feel safe enough around Sokka and herself not to consider it. That, or he's already so used to being locked in that he hadn't thought to, though he hadn't seemed to be imprisoned long enough for that to be the case.

She knocks again, a little louder this time, to give some warning before she pushes the door open enough to slip inside. Zuko is lying down on the bed in a fetal position so that she can only see the unmarred half of his face. His eye moves frantically underneath his eyelid and every now and then he lets out a soft cry. His hair is plastered across his forehead with sweat. She approaches cautiously, not wanting to startle him awake. A jolt like that could end badly, likely in flames.

His hands are balled into tight fists near his face and his brow is pinched with tension. The sight reminds her of some of the younger warriors in training when they would have nightmares and she would wake to rub their backs and calm them. She hesitates, wondering if she should wake him and do the same for him. In the end she thinks it best not to. She kneels on the floor at his head and brushes the damp hair from his face. He flinches away from her touch and another whimper bubbles up from his lips. “No.” His voice is quiet and broken. He twitches, drawing his limbs tighter to himself. “....off me. Stop!”

She only catches bits and pieces of what he mumbles and it makes her heart hurt to see him like this. He looks so much younger now than he had in the prison, like she's looking at a little boy instead of a nearly grown young man. She bites her lip. The sight of him flinching from ghosts is distressing. Technically he's the enemy, the former Prince of the nation that was waging war with her people. If she'd met him a year ago, she might hate him. Now, having been in the Boiling Rock for months and seeing how the Fire Nation treats it's own, after speaking with him and watching how Zuko himself had been treated, she could see him for what he really is, another one of their victims. A boy no older than herself, forced to endure things no teenager should.

She avoids touching him. Clearly its a trigger for whatever nightmare is running though his head. “Zuko,” she calls softly trying to coax him out of the nightmare that has taken hold.

He squeezes his eyes closed tighter and lets out a gasp. He buries his face into the pillow like he's trying to shake his head no. A few more disjointed words make it through. “...touch me....” he grates out through clenched teeth. “Stop!” His eyes shoot open and he gasps for air, panting like he's just run a mile.  
  


Suki reflexively reaches out, brushing a hand over his hair and shushing him like she used to do with the younger girls. Zuko scrambles back, away from her touch. He sits up, pressing his back against the wall and bracing his hands on the mattress beneath him. Suki doesn't miss the way he winces as his back hits the wall or the blush that creeps into his too pale cheeks upon the realization that he's not alone.

Suki sits back on her heels. “I'm sorry.” The apology is a feeble thing. “I probably shouldn't have come in uninvited but it sounded like you could use a friend.” Her eyes dart away and she blushes a bit herself. “When I realized you were having a nightmare I wasn't sure if I should wake you or not...” her words drift off. She's not sure what else to say.

Zuko scrubs his hands over his face and she watches his posture relax a little. “It's fine.” His voice is raspy and grating, like he's been screaming. He probably has, but it was all in his dreams. “It's probably better that you didn't. I don't like being touched much.”

Suki glances at him. “Yeah. I thought you might not.” The look he gives her is full of loaded questions. “You talk in your sleep,” she explains and he looks terrified. “Don't worry,” she does her best to console him. “I couldn't make out much, but I've been in that place for a month and a half. I figure it's likely we have some of the same nightmares.”

She tries not to squirm as his eyes wander over her like he's looking for a mark or scar, some hint to tell him what she's been through. She jerks her head to the empty space to his right on the bed. “Mind if I have a seat?” Zuko doesn't say anything, but he moves over to make space for her. Suki sits beside him, leaving as much distance between them as possible. She draws her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. “The guards visited you at night, didn't they.”

It's a statement, not a question. Zuko is still beside her, silent. Suki picks at a loose thread on the hem of her prison pants. After what feels like an eternity Zuko says what she already knows. “Yeah.” He's quiet and he sounds like a child who's pretending to be brave when they really want to burst into tears.

Neither of them look at each other. “Yeah,” Suki agrees. “Me too.” The air between them is thick with the words that go unsaid. Suki takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “They came the first night I was brought here. There was just the one guard that time. I guess he figured I'd be an easy target, a young girl all alone. I don't think he expected me to fight back like I did. He left without getting what he came for. I'm not sure if I was being hopeful or naive but I actually thought that was the end of it.” She casts her eyes to the floor, the bitterness seeping into her words. “The next night there were three of them. I tried to fight them off, but.... Two of them held me down and they took turns.” Her voice is starting to waver but she swallows it down. As hard as it is to talk about, it feels good to confide in someone. “I fought. Every time, but it never mattered.”

“At least you fought.” There's an anger in Zuko's voice that makes Suki look at him. He's hunched over with his hands in his lap picking at his thumb nail until it bleeds. “You didn't just lie there take it.” She sees the anger for what it really is now, self hatred. “It proves that you're strong, no matter what.”

She shrugs. “Or it proves that I'm a fool. Maybe things would have been better if I hadn't put up so much of a fight.”

“No. It wouldn't,” The hardness in his voice hints at something deeper. “Less painful maybe, but you'd hate yourself more.”

“Zuko,” she knows she should tread lightly here. She knows she has no right to tell him how he should feel, but if her suspicions are correct then she feels she has to say this. “It's ok if you didn't fight.”

“No it isn't!” She's startled by Zuko's explosive burst of anger and flinches away. “I was trained to fight. I was meant to be a soldier, but when it came time to fight for my own dignity I just let it happen. Every time.” Suki frowns, listening to him. The guards had never come to her cell two nights in a row save for the first time. Zuko had only been a prisoner for a few days, but he spoke as though he'd been dealing with this for much longer than that. Zuko turns his head away and buries his face in his hands like he's ashamed for her to see him. She gives him his privacy, turning away herself and continuing to unravel the loose thread. She doesn't expect him to say anything else, which is why she's surprised when he takes a shaky breath and continues. “Sometimes I wonder if maybe it's because I secretly wanted it and I just can't admit it to myself.” His voice is barely more than a whisper. “Why else would I give up so easily and just... let those things happen?...Why would they keep happening.”

Suki doesn't know what to feel in that moment: sadness at what they've both been through, anger that he's blaming himself and making up excuses for the actions of others? She reaches out against her better judgment and takes his hand in hers and rests them on his knee. “You can't think like that, Zuko. What they did to you... to both of us, was wrong. You didn't give in to anything, they took it from you and you did whatever you could to avoid being hurt worse.”

Wetness splatters the back of her hand and Suki realizes Zuko is crying. “But I didn't. I didn't do everything I could have and they hurt me anyway, every time no matter what... and I let them. I feel so dirty.”

“You didn't want it Zuko. If you did, you wouldn't feel that way. You didn't let anyone do anything. Just because you didn't fight, that doesn't mean you consented to what they were doing.” He takes a shuddering breath. Suki knows he's trying to hold back his tears, to keep his emotions in check as much as possible. “It's ok to cry, Zuko. It's ok to hurt and be scared. It isn't your fault.”

He still refuses to unleash the torrent of anguish in front of her, but he doesn't close himself off. He continues to open up and that's a start. “I know. I know it's not, but knowing doesn't matter. It doesn't make me feel any better. I can still feel their hands on me. I feel tainted, like if anyone gets too close they'll just... know. They'll know what happened. They'll think I'm disgusting. How could anyone ever love me if they knew?”

“Look at me, Zuko.” He doesn't move. She squeezes his hand harder. “Look at me.” Reluctantly, he turns his face toward her. “Do you think I'm disgusting?”

He looks shocked and appalled at the suggestion. “N-no. Of course not! I didn't mean-”

She hushes him. “I know that's not what you meant. But don't you see? If you don't think I'm disgusting then you aren't either. And anyone who thinks otherwise is wrong.” She brushes tears from his cheek and he presses into the touch. “We deserve love, no matter what's happened to us. There's nothing wrong with us. Anyone that truly cares would be able to see that. I know we've only just met, but I hope you know that I'm here for you. If you ever need to talk or cry or.. just let it out. It's not good to keep everything bottled up inside. You're a good man, Zuko.”

Zuko swallows hard. The tears had stopped falling but his eyes still shone with their unshed remnants. He looks at her, more vulnerable and open than he's probably ever been in his life if she were to guess. “Thank you,.” his voice quivers “I'll try to keep that in mind.” Suki smiles. “And... you can do the same, if you want. You can come to me I mean.”

She practically beams. “I'd like that.”

The moment is over and Zuko is sitting back up in his rigid posture, slipping his hand from Suki's and wiping at his face. The vulnerability is gone and now he just looks so very tired. He swallows thickly. “Don't tell the others about this. I don't want them to know.”

She doesn't know if he's referring to what happened in the prison or the emotional breakdown he'd just had in front of her, but it doesn't matter much either way. “Of course. It's not my place to say anything anyway.” She notices him wince again as he leans back against the cabin wall. “Hey. Promise me you'll let us take a look at your injuries when we land. I can tell that your back is still bothering you even though you're trying to hide it.” He nods somberly. “Do you want me to stay with you for a while?”

“I think I'd like to be alone now, if you don't mind.”

“Sure.” She gives his hand another light squeeze before she gets up and leaves, closing the door behind her.

She finds Sokka on the bridge, steering the ship once more. “How is he?”

Suki gives him a wry half smile. “He's doing as well as can be expected. I think he's had it pretty rough though. I got him to agree to let us look him over when we get back, make sure his shoulder is ok and check that there's nothing else we should be worried about.” Sokka looks concerned about that. Suki pats his arm comfortingly. “For now it's best if we just leave him alone. He could use some more rest.” Sokka's mouth presses into a thin line and he nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I've edited and posted this I'm suddenly feeling really self conscious about this chapter. I hope it's all in my head and it still came out as good as I thought it did originally.


	10. Chapter 10

Zuko had thought he was done having these negative thoughts after he'd met the dragons, but those few days in prison brought all the old feelings back to the forefront. The conversation with Suki had been unexpected though not unwelcome. It gave him a lot to think about and helped to ease his turbulent mind. He rubs his hands over the bruises on his arms from where they'd held him down, remembering the awful experience before pushing it aside. He closes his eyes and starts to meditate.

Zuko doesn't know how long he's been meditating before they reach the temple. He only knows they've arrived when Suki knocks softly on the door and pokes her head in to tell him. The meditation and his earlier conversation with Suki had helped to calm him and he feels better, like a weight's been lifted from him. He no longer dreads having to face the rest of the group worried that they'll somehow see through him to the shame underneath.

They disembark to confusion and fanfare as Hakoda and Suki exit the airship and are met with excited chatter. Katara grins and rushes forward to embrace her father and Zuko looks away. It still makes him uncomfortable to see the two water tribe siblings so openly affectionate with their father. It's painfully obvious that the three of them genuinely care for each other in a way that Zuko's own family doesn't seem capable of, but there's still a deeply ingrained mistrust instilled in him by his own father that makes him want to scream at them to get away. He ignores the screaming in his mind and allows himself to smile at the heartwarming reunion.

“Zuko!” Sokka's voice breaks him from his thoughts. The young warrior is striding toward him with purpose. “Come on. Katara's going to check you out.” Sokka pauses, face screwed up comically. “Uh... not like that.” There's a faint blush visible in his dark complexion. Zuko recalled his promise to Suki and allows himself to be led to the fountain in the center of the courtyard. Katara has him sit on the fountains edge and instructs him to remove his shirt. He looks around at the group milling about. Aang and Toph have wandered off, likely for bending practice, but Sokka and Suki are gathered around waiting to find out the extent of his injuries. That's fine. He trusts them. They've been there for him, at least as much as he'd let them. The thing that stills his hands from compliance is Hakoda. He hovers at Katara's side. Zuko doesn't know why but he isn't about to give the man a show. His eyes linger on the older man.

Suki must notice because she sits beside him, a reassuring presence and smiles at Hakoda. “A little privacy please?”

Hakoda smiles. “Of course. Katara, maybe you can show me your bending another time.” With that, he wanders off to explore the temple leaving Sokka, Zuko and the two girls alone. It's humiliating that Zuko couldn't just do that himself, but he's thankful for Suki's assistance. Now that Hakoda is gone it's easier to swallow down the brief panic that comes with being told to undress and carefully strips off his shirt, taking care not to irritate his sore shoulder or pull at the lacerations hidden beneath the bandages wrapped around his torso.

Katara hums an unhappy noise from where she's sitting behind him. “You've bled through the bandages in some spots. I'll have to wet them before I can take them off and see how bad it is.” Zuko appreciates the warning. There's a sensation of coolness on his back as Katara bends water from the fountain over the linen wrappings on his back soaking them through until they can be easily removed. “Ok. I'm going to take these off now and then I can do a full examination. I won't really have to touch you much. I just bend the water to diagnose the injuries and heal them. It's a little hard to explain, but it shouldn't hurt. It might tingle a little though.” Zuko appreciates the explanations of her actions even as he hates how childish it makes him feel to be walked through each step of the process.

He nods to show he understands and Katara proceeds to pluck at the end of the wrap with nimble fingers, pulling it free and beginning to unwind the long strip of cloth covering his wounds. As she unwinds the length of linen she rolls it up and passes it around to Suki who does the same and passes it back.

His ribs ache as the bindings are stripped away and his lungs try to expand to their fullest at the sudden freedom. As the marks on his back are revealed there's a sharp intake of breath and a simultaneous muttering of “spirits” from Sokka. Zuko cranes his neck as though he can see the tapestry painted in blood on his flesh if only he tries hard enough.

He tries to sound curious as opposed to worried. The physician hadn't seemed to think the cuts were that bad, but maybe he'd done more damage than he thought when the stitches had ripped or maybe infection had settled in despite the healers care. “How bad is it?”

“Not that bad.” He can tell that Katara is lying. “Some of the cuts look deep, and you've torn out some stitches, but it's nothing I shouldn't be able to fix once we get them out.”

He knows she's being truthful about that at least. They physician had said as much when he'd patched Zuko up the first time and he'd felt the stitches tear when Sokka had caught him after his jump for the gondola. Still, he can't help but feel like she's omitting something. When Sokka finally speaks he confirms Zuko's theory. His voice is strained, like he's barely holding back his anger. “It says traitor. They carved the characters for traitor into your back because _I_ screwed up.” His footsteps echo across the now silent platform as he storms off.

Zuko wants to go after him but Katara's firm hand on his shoulder holds him back. “Let him go. He needs to cool off right now and you need medical attention. You can talk to him later.”

Zuko turns to Suki who's watching Sokka's retreating form. He knows the two of them are close, though he isn't entirely sure if they're just friends or if it's something more than that. Either way, he knows from experience that Suki has a way of calming even the most turbulent spirit. He thinks Sokka could use a friend right now and if he can't be the one to go to him, maybe Suki could offer some comfort. “Maybe you should go. Make sure he's ok.”

She looks at him a wrinkle forming between her eyes as her brows draw together in concern. “Are you sure? I can stay with you while Katara works if you want.”

Zuko appreciates the gesture, but he can handle this on his own. He trusts Katara. “I'll be fine.” With that, Suki gives his hand a final squeeze before taking off after Sokka.

Katara let's out a long slow breath now that they're alone. “I'm sorry,” she says quietly. Zuko doesn't understand what she's apologizing for but she doesn't need any prompting to explain herself. “For not telling you. You deserved to know. I don't think it will scar with my healing but, I don't really have enough experience with the healing arts to know. If it does, well, you deserve to know what people might see.”

Zuko tries to act nonchalant. “It doesn't really matter. It's not like I'll ever be Firelord and my people think I'm a traitor anyway... obviously.”

“Are you?” Katara sounds curious. “I mean, you're here and you're training Aang, but that doesn't necessarily mean that you're a traitor to your nation... right?”

“I'm here because I want Aang to take down the Firelord as much as you do. As far as my people are concerned that makes me a traitor. The Firelord is the living will of Agni,” he explains. “To go against him is to forsake the fire spirit himself. That's what my people believe.”

He feels cool water spreading over his back. “Is that what you believe?” After several seconds the coolness disappears.

Zuko contemplates the question. It's not one he's given much thought to. On the surface the answer is yes. The belief that the Firelord is the will and might of Agni on earth was something he'd been taught as absolute truth as a child, something he'd once aspired to live up to when one day he took on the mantle of Firelord himself. But if he examined the idea closely, the cracks began to show. The divinity of Agni lay in Zuko's blood, in the blood of the royal family, passed from Agni to the first Firelord himself and from him to his children and their children and so on. Because of this, any action taken against a member of the royal bloodline is accepted as an action against Agni. How could the Firelord have done what he did to Zuko without feeling the wrath of Agni for it? Why would Agni allow such abuses against his own blood without abandoning Ozai, unless maybe his family wasn't as connected to the great spirit as he'd been led to believe. It wouldn't be the only great lie he'd been told. All his life he'd heard stories of water tribe savages and blood thirsty earth benders and air nomad armies. Now he's met them, he's seen for himself that they're no different than him.

“I'm not sure what I believe,” he answers honestly. He believes in the spirits, and he believes in Agni, but Zuko isn't sure that he believes the spirits take as much notice of the world as people liked to think they do. He isn't sure that he believes in the divine right of the Firelord or that the Firelord is as infallible as he would like people to think. “I only know that Ozai is the cause of great suffering, and I want that to end.”

She hums thoughtfully. “I know that I don't have the best opinion of your people, and we don't share the same beliefs or ways of ruling that you do, but for what it's worth, I don't think you're a traitor. I think what you're doing is noble and brave. I don't know much about Agni, but I can't imagine a spirit that would want to see their chosen people suffer and die for a pointless war year after year. If he's any kind of spirit at all he would smile at what you're doing.”

“My uncle always said it's foolish to think that one might know the will of the spirits,” Zuko says without really thinking about it. It comes to him unbidden.

“Maybe he was trying to tell you something.”

Zuko think about that. “Yeah,” he admits. “Maybe he was.”

“Anyway,” Katara says, steering the conversation back to the subject they'd drifted away from. “You're lucky. There's the cuts, some bruised ribs, I can feel a fracture in one of them, and there's the obvious bruising, but I can't feel any internal injuries, no bleeding or ruptures to worry about. I should be able to heal most of it easily enough. The fractured rib might take a bit more work though. I don't have much experience with anything like that. I'll have to remove the stitches before I can work on your back though. I'd like to do that first if you don't mind.”

Zuko nods his assent and Katara gets to work. He doesn't know if she uses waterbending or more traditional methods to cut the stitches holding him together, but each time she severs one she warns him before she pulls out the threads. It doesn't hurt like they did going in, but it's not at all pleasant. He can't quite describe the sensation other than that he's happy when it's over. That done, she begins the healing process. Zuko feels the cool water once again slide over his back, seeping into the wounds and causing involuntary twitches as the cuts close as if by magic. At least, he guesses that's what's happening from the slight tickle that he feels briefly before the pain and tightness of scabbed over skin and open wounds disappears.

She's done with his back in minutes and she moves to sit in the space vacated by Suki. She brings the water to the sorest of his injured ribs and he watches with interest as she goes about her task. The water around her hands emits a gentle glow and there's a strange feeling along his side, like someone tickling him from the inside out. It's slightly unnerving, but once it's gone he finds he can breath with ease. He takes a deep, experimental breath, sighing happily when the action doesn't prompt a coughing fit or a stab of pain. She works on the extensive bruising on his torso last, guiding the water along his arms and over his chest. The purples and yellows and greens fade rapidly to reveal smooth unblemished skin. It's fascinating, like she's doing nothing more than washing off an ink stain. He closes his eyes as she lifts her hands to his face to care for his black eye.

When she's done he gives her an appreciative smile and a respectful bow of thanks. She smiles back and thanks him in return, mimicking his bow as best she can, for not letting Sokka run off on his harebrained scheme alone and for helping their father to escape. Before he leaves Zuko asks her about his back. She smiles brightly as she lets him know that there's no sign of the mocking message that had been written in his flesh. Zuko finds himself smiling. If only Katara could heal the scars on his mind.

He stretches his sore muscles, glad that he can do so without the torment it would have caused only minutes ago. He stops by his room to change before seeking out Sokka. It's nice to be back in his own clothes again, though he'll have to keep the prison outfit until he can get a replacement for the spare set of clothes he had to leave behind at the boiling rock. It takes him a long time to find Sokka. He's on one of the upper floors of a crumbling inverted pagoda sitting at the edge with his legs dangling over the side and looking morosely out into the ravine below.

Suki must have already come and gone. There's no sign of her anywhere. Zuko silently sits beside him, mimicking the other boys position. Sokka gives him a cursory glance but returns to staring into the abyss without acknowledging him otherwise. Zuko knows what it's like to be stuck inside your own head, to have your failures and thoughts circling around inside driving you crazy. “Hey.” It isn't much, but he needs Sokka to talk to him. He needs him to stop dwelling on what happened.

“Hey.” Sokka sounds absolutely dejected.

Zuko sighs. “I'm fine. Katara says it didn't even scar. Everything's fine.” It really isn't, but Sokka doesn't need to know that.

Sokka gives him a sideways glace. “No. It's not ok. It's my fault you were in there in the first place. They tortured you and I was so caught up worrying about my dad that I didn't bother to think about what was going on with you. I should have listened to you and I shouldn't have gone there in the first place.”

Zuko shakes his head. “No. It was a good thing you went. If you didn't we never would have found Suki or your dad.” He believes it too. He doesn't have a strong opinion on Hakoda, but he's glad they they got Suki out of that place at least. “You can't change the past so you might as well not dwell on it. Just be thankful for the good that came out of it and move on. Use it as a learning experience.”

Sokka turns to him. The hurt he's feeling is written all over his face. “How can you say that after what happened to you?”

Zuko shrugs. “I've been through a lot. It wasn't exactly a picnic, but I've dealt with worse. At least I can be happy that we didn't lose anyone. Look,” he says tiredly, “the guards were the ones that messed me up, not you. And yeah, we wouldn't have been there if you hadn't insisted on saving your dad, but it was my choice to help you so if you're responsible than I am too. You need to stop blaming yourself for what happened to me.”

Zuko stands up and proffers a hand. Sokka still doesn't look like he believes him, but he allows himself to be pulled to his feet and embraced. The action must surprise him however, because it takes several beats before he finally lifts his arms to return the hug. Zuko's surprised himself. He never imagined he would be so openly affectionate with anyone.

After several beats they pull away from each other. “I'm sorry.” Sokka's voice is barely more than a whisper.

The corner of Zuko's mouth pulls upward just a bit. “I know. But I mean it, don't blame yourself. I don't.” Zuko takes a minute to gauge the position of the sun in the sky. “We should get back to the others before they come looking for us.” Sokka presses his lips together in a half hearted smile and nods in agreement. They make their way back to the others together. By the time they get there Sokka's mood seems to have improved slightly. He catches sight of Suki as they reenter camp and he makes his way over, leaving Zuko behind.

Zuko takes a minute to look around camp at the motley assortment of kids gathered around. He doesn't want to be the center of attention right now, so he disappears into the airship with a plan in mind. When he reemerges he's carrying a small sack loaded with spices and mushrooms and a few other items that he'd pilfered from the well stocked pantry of the airship's kitchens. Royal transport has its perks after all. He settles himself in the alcove where the cook fire is located and sets about lighting the kindling under the cook-pot. He adds a few small pieces of wood to the kindling and fills the pot with fresh water. While the water heats he busies himself cutting vegetables and mushrooms.

Cooking isn't a skill he's ever been properly taught, but he'd snuck into the palace kitchens often enough in his efforts to avoid Azula and Ozai and watched the palace cooks go about their duties with rapt attention. It was almost inevitable that he would pick up a few of the simpler recipes, typically the quick meals that the staff made for themselves in between preparing banquets and elaborate meals for the royal family. Granted, he'd never actually tried to make any of them before so he isn't actually sure if his efforts will even be edible but he's thankful to be able to disappear off into the corner and be left alone for a while after all the attention he'd been subjected to upon their return.

Cooking, it turns out, can be quite relaxing. It keeps his mind from straying to dark corners as he recalls the steps he'd seen the kitchen staff take time and time again: simmer the water, add the salt, add the soy sauce, cut the vegetables and the mushrooms, measure out the chili powder and the sesame oil. He's stopped paying attention to anything around him, lost in his own little world of measurements and timing and controlling the temperature of the flames. He's so wrapped up in his task that he doesn't even notice that he's no longer alone. He's surprised by a voice to his left. “Smells good, Sparky. Whatcha making?” Toph plops unceremoniously onto the ground beside him.

He smiles. He feels a strange fondness for the abrasive girl. Idly, he wonders if maybe it's because he likes to think this is what having a little sister is supposed to be like. Maybe if Ozai hadn't twisted Azula into a shadow of himself she might have been someone like Toph, brash and confident and sometimes a pain but still fun and playful and at times even sweet. “Spicy tofu stew. The cooks in the palace used to make it a lot and they let me try it a few times. The little girl makes a face and Zuko chuckles. He retrieves a spoon and scoops some of the spiced broth from the pot. He cools it for her and holds the spoon to her lips. Toph gives a tentative taste.

Her eyes widen immediately. For a second Zuko is worried that he'd used too much chili powder until she grins and cackles like a madwoman. “Wow, Sparky! Who knew the prince of the Fire Nation can cook? How about instead of teaching Aang to firebend you give Katara cooking tips. I haven't had anything this good since we left Ba Sing Se.”

Zuko ducks his head, a blush coloring his cheeks. He isn't used to this kind of praise. “I don't really know what I'm doing. I'm just mimicking what I've seen in the palace and hoping for the best. Besides, Katara's cooking is fine” Toph raises a brow as if in disbelief of that and Zuko feels the need to defend Katara's culinary skills. “She's just...Water Tribe. They haven't exactly been bastions of trade and resources in the last one hundred years. She does the best she can with what we have and how she was brought up.”

By now others have begun to wander over, settling by the fire in anticipation of food. The sudden crowd makes Zuko squirm. He swirls a spoon through the stew and tastes it for himself. It's ok, not quite how he remembers it, but it's at least decent, especially for a first try. He thinks it's had enough time to cook and he begins filling bowls and passing them around to the gathered crowd. Aang looks at his bowl dubiously. “There's no meat,” Zuko reassures him which earns him an excited grin from the airbender.

The same gets an exaggerated groan from Sokka as he laments the lack of meat but is quickly shut down by his father. “Show some respect, Sokka.” The stern admonishment catches Zuko's attention and he keeps the conversation and the Chief in his periphery as he finishes doling out portions to the rest of the group, ready to jump in should he need to. “Zuko worked hard to make us all a nice meal, don't be rude. It smells delicious, by the way,” he adds with a smile and a nod in Zuko's direction. He isn't sure how he's expected to react so he settles on a quiet polite thank you.

Sokka shovels the first spoonful into his mouth. It's barely had time to touch his tongue before he's shrieking and sucking in air. “haht, haht, haht.” He waves his hand in front of his scalded mouth and reaches for a cup of water someone's poured.

“Serves you right,” Katara chides her brother. “Maybe you should slow down and let it cool off before you eat it.” Sokka shoots her a glare and grumbles about too much spice even as he continues to eat faster than he should.

“Suck it up, Snoozles. You'll be fine. Besides, it's not even that spicy. You're just a wuss.” The rest of the group chimes in with their own compliments and praise. Zuko takes his bowl and settles down just outside of the circle and watches the antics of his newfound friends. When he's done, he sets his bowl aside to be washed and slips away unnoticed.

It's been a long day. Zuko's exhausted. He collapses onto his bedroll as soon as he reaches his room. His gaze falls to the portrait propped up on the ledge by his bed. He lingers on the images of his uncle and mother. He wonders where his uncle is now, if he knows that Zuko left Caldera and has been declared a traitor. He wonders what his uncle must think of him if he's heard the news. Uncle had always been kind to Zuko, especially after Lu Ten had passed. He hasn't seen Iroh since he was thirteen and Ozai had forbidden it. Zuko thinks that alone probably means that Iroh cared and allows himself to believe that he wouldn't accept the Firelord's propaganda.

He doesn't wonder those things about his mother. There's no point. She died a long time ago. That's the only explanation for her inexplicable disappearance. He thinks she would be happy to see him now though, surrounded by friends and happy for the first time since she'd gone away. He does wonder if her soul is at rest. Ozai had never held a proper vigil the way he should have, but Zuko had stayed awake all night in the western garden holding a flame to guide her soul back to Agni. He hopes it was enough.

He wants to just close his eyes and sleep but the turmoil in his mind won't let him. Zuko pushes himself up and gathers his bedroll. He carries it to the courtyard where the others had settled their own, laid out in a rough circle, and spreads it near Katara and Sokka's and settles in. The anxiety in his mind calms, satisfied that as long as Zuko sleeps out here with the others he'll know they're safe. Nothing will happen to them so long as he's around. He might not have been any good at saving himself, but he could keep the others safe one way or another.


	11. Chapter 11

Zuko can't help but keep an eye on Hakoda as the days go by. He doesn't need to, deep down he knows that. Sokka and Katara are both much too happy around the man for Zuko to believe he's ever done so much as raise a hand to them, much less anything more sinister. Still, it's practically second nature to remain attentive around the older man, always watching for any sign that things are not as they seem.

Time and time again Zuko's concerns are quelled. He watches Zuko train Aang with mild interest. He never yells or admonishes Zuko for his form, not that he would know to, but it's what Zuko had come to expect from Ozai and his teachers. Hakoda in contrast congratulates Zuko afterward, making him blush when he calls Zuko's bending impressive. He says that he never imagined he could think of fire as being beautiful after all the destruction he's seen until he saw the masterful control and grace Zuko exhibited. Zuko isn't sure what to make of that. The compliment feels dangerous, but the man just pats him on the back and smiles warmly like he's done to Sokka so often and walks off leaving Zuko confused.

When Sokka and Katara get into their petty squabbles, which they often do, Hakoda doesn't goad them on or shout or threaten. He speaks calmly, sits them down and insists they talk out their problems. On occasion he'll tell Sokka to apologize to his sister or vice versa. He's stern but never angry. He never raises a hand, never puts them down. He doesn't treat Sokka like he's lesser just because he can't bend.

He's quickly become the groups dad. Toph appreciates that he doesn't baby her and is genuinely impressed by her abilities. Aang is always eager to hear the stories Hakoda tells around the fire during dinner. Katara and Sokka are simply glad to have their father around. Once, Zuko accidentally overheard part of an awkward conversation where Sokka was asking the man how to go about trying to court a girl. Hakoda had tried to extend his fatherly instincts to Zuko, offering encouragement when he thought Zuko might need it or giving him a good natured pat on the back, but he was met with coldness and resistance. Zuko doesn't intend to be that way, but his first thoughts in regards to compliments and encouragement is to scrutinize them for the hidden barbs or search for the darker meaning. His first reaction to physical contact is to cringe or freeze up, waiting for what comes next.

Zuko wishes he could be as carefree as the others. He wishes he could feel comforted having a father figure here instead of on edge. He wishes his past didn't loom over his shoulder like a dark shadow coloring mundane things. He's retreated back to his room. He's no longer irrationally fearful that he'll wake in the night to find Hakoda looming over one of them. Night after night of pretending to sleep until long after everyone else has settled down and drifted off have proven his fear unfounded. Besides, he's worried that eventually he'll wake them with his nightmares and let slip his dark secrets.

*****

Moonlight filters in through the window, lighting the room in a soft glow. It takes a minute for Zuko's eyes to adjust from the darkness of sleep. There's someone sitting on the edge of his bed. He hadn't heard them come in. His mind feels sluggish as the image of his visitor solidifies and takes shape. When he can finally make out who it is he gasps in alarm. Ursa smiles gently the way she always used to do when he was little. She reaches out to him, caresses his cheek. It takes time for him to find his voice. “Mom?”

It's barely a whisper, it might not have come out at all. He sits up and reaches out. He needs to touch her, to prove to himself that she's real. Ursa looks into his eyes and her hand falls away. Her expression turns from a gentle smile to one of fear and she reels back. “No. Don't touch me.” Her eyes become hard and her perfectly painted lips draw down into a sneer. “You're not my son. You're him. Ozai.”

Zuko cries out and reaches out pleading, swearing that he's not but she dissolves into smoke and shadows. The room around him shifts focus. The watery light of the moon is replaced by the harsh light of day. He's not in the air temple anymore. He's standing in the Agni Kai arena. The stands around him are crowded with nobles come to see the spectacle. “Disgraceful.” Zuko turns to find the owner of the voice standing off to the side. His uncle shakes his head in disappointment and refuses to look at him.

Zuko has the sudden realization that he's naked. He moves his hands to cover himself from the audiences stares, embarrassed by his nudity. “Uncle? I don't- It's not what you think. Uncle, help me, please.” He's begging but his uncle keeps his back turned. Zuko doesn't like the crowds eyes on him. It's improper, shameful. He wants to hide but there's nowhere to go. The arena surrounds him on all four sides. “Please,” He begs again, “hand me a cloak.”

His uncle makes no move to help him. “How shameful for a Prince to debase himself in such a manner,” he says with disgust as he disappears into the stands.

A hand settles on Zuko's shoulder, heavy and firm, practically holding him in place. Zuko's breath hitches in his chest. He doesn't dare turn around. He doesn't want to see who is standing there. It doesn't matter. He doesn't have to see his father, he already knows. He sneers in Zuko's ear. “You're no son of mine. You're the son of a whore, a treacherous dog. You think a cur like you can defy me? You think you can defeat me?” He laughs, a sadistic, merciless roar. “All you've ever been good at is obedience. Why don't you show them your best trick? On your knees dog.” The hand on his shoulder pushes, forcing him down.

Zuko's eyes scan the arena, searching the faces around him for pity, for someone who will help him, but he's met with derision and scorn, disgust and excitement. “Help me!” He calls out but gets no response. “Please,” he begs the crowd but it's no use. He begs his father. “Please. I'm your loyal son. Please. Don't make me do this.” His words are futile. They always are.

A hand tangles in his hair and forces him to look into the stands. “What will your friends think?” His eyes settle on the front row of seats. Aang, Toph, Katara, Sokka, and Suki are all sitting there watching the spectacle before them. They wear masks of horror and revulsion except Suki who just looks on pitifully sad before closing her eyes to shut out the image in front of her. Ozai laughs in his ear and Zuko can feel him too close behind him. “It's time you learned your place. You are mine to do with as I will. No one is going to help you.” The crowd is cheering and shouting encouragement. Zuko feels hands and skin... too much skin.

*****

“No no no no no...” Zuko jerks upright with a startled cry. A hand reaches out and settles on his shoulder. He jerks back, eyes blown wide with fear but not quite seeing yet. “Don't touch me,” he snarls like a trapped animal. He's breathing heavily and his mind struggles to separate the fiction of his nightmare from his reality. It takes several seconds to process that he's looking at the concerned visage of Chief Hakoda.

The man raises his hands in front of him, a placating gesture. “Calm down, son. I'm not gonna hurt you.” The man is huge, a looming presence even though he's seated.

Zuko shrinks back, scooting as far away as he can, which is only a few inches. He sits as tall as he can, not willing to appear weak. He eyes the older man with suspicion. “What are you doing in my room?”

Hakoda's brow furrows further as though trying to make sense of his reaction. “I couldn't sleep. I thought I'd take a walk to settle my mind. That must have been some nightmare you had. I could hear you from down the hall.”

Zuko has enough self awareness to feel mortified. He averts his eyes and rubs at his neck. “Sorry about that. Did I... wake anyone up?”

“No.” He huffs out a laugh and the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles. “You weren't quite that loud. I only heard you because I was passing by.” Zuko is thankful that his nightmares haven't disturbed anyone. Hakoda's expression turns serious though he somehow maintains a friendly demeanor. “Is that why you've been sleeping down here? You're afraid of waking them up?” It's only partially true, but Zuko agrees anyway. He doesn't like the way Hakoda is scrutinizing him. “Are you alright, son?”

Zuko isn't sure how to respond to that. Hakoda sounds so... soft. Like he's genuinely concerned about Zuko. It's not something he's used to. It feels like a trap, but he's gotten to know that these people, his new friends and even Hakoda, don't play games the way he's used to. They're open and honest, they don't set traps for each other to fall victim to with every word or action. “I'm fine. I'm used to having nightmares.” Maybe now Hakoda will leave.

He isn't that lucky. If anything the Water Tribe Chief looks more concerned. “That's not a comforting thought. Do you want to talk about it? Sometimes talking helps.”

Zuko swallows the lump in his throat. He's done enough talking in the last week and it hadn't done anything. “No. Sir,” he adds for good measure.

Hakoda frowns, clearly unhappy with Zuko's choice, but he doesn't press it. “Alright. I won't force it, but the offer stands. And Zuko, you don't have to call me sir.”

Zuko nods. “Yes, Chief.”

Hakoda chuckles. “You don't have to call me Chief either. Just Hakoda is fine.” Hakoda sighs heavily, still making no move to vacate Zuko's room. “You know, I hate that it's come to this. You kids shouldn't be fighting this war. You and your friends should be out having fun and getting into trouble, not breaking into prisons and fighting grown adults because we couldn't end this pointless war sooner.”

  
Zuko frowns. “I'm not a kid.”

Hakoda looks at him, the look on his face sad and grim. “Yes, son, you are. So is Sokka and everyone else here. This is too big a burden to have placed on all of you and I regret every day that things turned out this way. As parents, we have a job to protect our children. It's one that I've failed.”

Zuko couldn't disagree more. “You tried.”

“Not hard enough. You kids shouldn't be waking up with nightmares, on the run, preparing to face people more powerful than yourselves. I should have done more. And you, your sister... how could your father put the two of you in such danger?”

Zuko stares at the floor. “He isn't much of a father.”

Hakoda sighs in reply. He wraps Zuko in a wordless hug, pulling him tight against him. Zuko tenses, trying in vain to stop the slight trembling in his body from the contact. Hakoda squeezes him gently and releases him, moving to stand. “Try to get some sleep, son. I know its hard when you're plagued with nightmares, but a tired soldier is a dead soldier. I'd rather you kids weren't soldiers at all, but so long as you are, I'd prefer if you do everything you can to make it through this war alive.”

Zuko releases a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. “Yes, Chi... Hakoda,” he corrects himself.  
  
“Goodnight, Zuko.” Hakoda smiles, a sad forlorn thing, and leaves.

Zuko listens to his footsteps echo down the empty hallway. He lays back down in his bed and pulls his blanket over him even though he isn't really cold. He supposes that Hakoda is what a father should be: kind, concerned, caring. It reminds him of his mother and after her, his uncle. A wave of sadness washes over Zuko as he holds up what he knows of Lu-Ten and Sokka and their relationships with their own fathers compared to him and Ozai. He's known it was twisted for a long time, but the glaring evidence of how much better it could be, how tenderly a man with no ties to Zuko could treat him when his own father had done nothing but belittle and degrade him makes him feel bitter. He wants to cry. He closes his eyes and wonders why the spirits had decided he wasn't worthy of such love.


	12. Chapter 12

The group only has a week together before the Fire Nation tears them apart like a wet piece of paper. The attack comes out of nowhere just after breakfast one morning. There's a faint whistling and a bomb comes screaming toward the temple. Luckily Aang sees it coming and deflects it away, but there are more raining down behind it and he can't deflect them all. Several land. The concussive explosions shake the canyon walls and knock rocks and structures around them loose. One blast sends rubble crashing down from the ceiling above them. The group springs into action. Zuko runs, tackling Katara to the ground and narrowly avoiding both of them being crushed by the falling debris. Toph opens a tunnel into the rear wall while Hakoda rounds up the Duke and Teo and starts herding them toward the opening. Half the group get through, but the escape plan hits a snag when Appa refuses to budge.

The temple is in chaos. The sound of bombs exploding and rock falling deafen Zuko. In between blasts he can hear Aang and his friends yelling but he can't pay attention to what's being said. He's too distracted by an airship lowering itself into the canyon. Standing defiant on the prow is Azula. Zuko ignores the commotion around him, choosing to focus his attention on his little sister. He knows that if he doesn't it's likely not all of them will survive. It's up to him to distract her and buy some time to give the others a chance to get away safely.

He attacks and for once Azula takes the bait. Her eyes are solely on Zuko. She dodges the first fire blast he sends her way easily just as he'd planned. It was a cover. He needed her attention on something other than him as he charged, leaping off the edge of the temple to land on the airship. She's already sending an attack his way as he finds his footing. Blue fire meets orange. Flames lick at his skin, but he brushes them aside. They're more evenly matched than they've ever been before. Zuko meets her blow for blow until a flurry of fire blasts breaks his root and sends him careening off of his floating perch.

He feels weightless as he falls through the air. There's just enough time for him to think, _this is it, I'm going to die._ The end doesn't come though. There's an airship below him. It rises up to meet him from under the layer of fog that hangs in the depths of the canyon like a whale breaching the surface of the sea. Zuko twists in mid air, getting his legs under him and he braces himself. He lands hard. The impact sends a jolt through his legs, knocking him over and he starts to slide down the taught canvas of the balloon. He scrambles for purchase, his hand brushes a guide rope and he grabs on. He hisses in pain as several feet of rope slides through his hand before he jerks to a stop. He pulls himself up, hand over hand, until he's on top of the balloon.

He stands tall as the ship raises him level with Azula. He watches, helpless, as she sends a fireball screaming at Appa, but breathes a sigh of relief as the bison dodges. He sees heads poking over the saddle, watching him. They're leaving him behind, but they've gotten away and that's the important thing. With them out of the picture, Azula sets her sights on Zuko. She's furious as the battle begins again. Her attacks are precise and brutal. Each move intended to end him. Zuko holds back. He counters her moves and diverts her attacks, but he only means to keep her off balance and tire her out. He doesn't want to hurt her. She's still his little sister.

He doesn't know how much longer he can keep this up. He's had plenty of time to regain his strength after leaving the boiling rock and the masters lessons have improved his firebending greatly, but Azula has always had the upper hand when it came to battle. He isn't sure he can end this without injuring her or being killed in the process, but he has to try. He makes another daring leap, bridging the gap between their airships. He lands steadily this time and advances on Azula, brushing her fire aside as he unleashes his own. They're close now, nearly within an arms reach of each other. Zuko throws a fire punch at the same time Azula retaliates with her own. The force of the two blows meeting at such close range is explosive. Both siblings are blown back and sent careering through the air.

Once more, Zuko feels the stomach churning weightlessness of being completely untethered. There's no airship below him this time, nothing to stop his fall except for the ground hundreds of feet below and coming up fast. A movement in his periphery causes him to turn his head. Appa's furry bulk has turned back toward danger and is heading straight for him. The great beast swoops underneath him and Katara extends a hand, latching onto his and pulling him into the saddle. As they fly off Zuko looks back, transfixed, watching his sisters descent. Fear and sadness settle into his heart. He thinks, _she's not going to make it._ Following on the heels of that is a complicated sense of irritation and elation as she uses her firebending to guide her toward the cliff wall and of course she does, clinging to the side of the ravine watching them fly off with a look of sheer animosity.

They fly for hours to put as much distance between them and Azula as possible. Eventually, Zuko points out a spot of land in the distance; a small uninhabited island if his calculations as to where they've ended up is correct. They haven't seen any sign of Azula or her fleet since they made their escape and they feel confident that they haven't been followed. Aang guides Appa and they settle down on a windswept beach. The island is small. There are no trees or freshwater, just a stretch of sandy shoreline around the circumference and an interior filled with hardy scrub grasses and the nests of some rather disgruntled pelican puffins. They'll have to move on as soon as possible, but for now they need to set up a camp and get some rest and think of where to go.

The atmosphere is heavy as they take stock of what few supplies they'd had time to salvage. Thankfully, their tents had already been safely packed away on Appa thanks to the shelter of the air temple. Katara had likewise had the forethought to grab the sack of rice and their half washed dishes during the hurried escape. They can collect eggs from the islands inhabitants too to round out their food supplies. Zuko works to build up a fire with some scattered driftwood when he finally brings up the question that's been on his mind since he's had the time to think. “How will the others find us? Or is there a rendezvous point we're supposed to meet them at?”

Sokka drops an armful of driftwood he'd been collecting and sits down with a sigh. Katara removes herself from the conversation and begins to finish dealing with the dishes and unpacking. She looks distraught and Zuko feels his stomach drop before Sokka can even tell him the bad news. “We aren't meeting them anywhere,” he says tiredly. “We didn't have time to come up with a plan beyond get out of there. We won't even know if they've made it until after the comet....hopefully,” he adds sounding less than enthused. He scowls. “I should have planned for something like this, in case we got separated,” he growls.

Zuko pats him on the back awkwardly, half remembering the way his mother would comfort him when he was little. “You can't blame yourself for that. We thought we'd be safe at the air temple. You couldn't have known this would happen. You'll see your dad again.” It feels strange to comfort someone. It's not a skill he has much experience with but he hopes it's working.

“I hope so. I just... I hate that every time it seems like things are going right something has to go wrong.”

Zuko has nothing to say to that. If he's being honest, he's a little more comfortable without the older man there. He feels bad for feeling that way. Hakoda hadn't been anything but kind to him. He can understand the siblings pain at losing their father, though. Not that he misses Ozai. He'd be happy never to lay eyes on the man again, but he knows the pain of losing his mother and his uncle. No amount of time with either of them could ever have been enough.

Zuko tends the fire as Katara cooks, helping to make their small supply of driftwood last longer than it would have on its own. It's early evening when they finally sit down to eat a meager meal of rice and eggs. Toph wrinkles her nose as she takes a bite. “I miss the airship and Sparky's cooking already,” she says glumly. Katara doesn't even bother to argue with her. Zuko too misses the spices they'd left behind, not to mention the vegetables and fruit that had grown wild around the temple. There's still plenty of rice left, but they'll need to find a market soon to supplement their supply with something more substantial. Speaking of which... they need to figure out where to go from here. They can't return to the air temple and they're in enemy territory.

Sokka seems to have the same line of thinking as Zuko. He finishes his food and sets his bowl aside as he looks around the campfire at his friends. “We need to find a new place to lay low until the comet. We can't stay here. There's no shelter, no fresh water. We're sitting turtle-ducks.”

Suki hmm's as she thinks. “It would be best if we could find someplace close to Caldera City, that way we'll be on the Firelord's doorstep when we're ready. And we'd need a place with a market. Somewhere with a small enough population that we can avoid them for the most part but big enough that we won't stand out too much.” She turns to Zuko. “Do you know of anyplace like that?”

Zuko thinks for minute before the obvious answer hits him. He frowns. He doesn't like this at all, but he can't think of a better idea. “I might know a place, but you won't like it.” The group, Toph excepted, turn their expectant stares on him. “Ember Island. It's not exactly sparsely populated, but it's more of a vacation spot,” he explains, “so a few new faces showing up out of nowhere won't really attract attention. We can stay at the summer house. My father hasn't been there since my mother left so it'll be empty and it has a private beach and land so we won't have to worry about prying eyes.”

The kids all look at each other. Sokka shrugs. “Sounds good to me. It'll be nice to sleep in an actual bed again.” There's a murmur of agreement. Sokka claps his hands together and grins. “It's settled then. We'll head to Ember Island in the morning.”

Now that Ember Island is a certainty, anxiety worms its way into Zuko's gut. He excuses himself. It's still early, but he heads to his tent. As he settles in, conflicting thoughts swim through his head. He knows that Ember Island is a good choice. They can hide in plain sight and be ready when the time is right, but he knows that going there is bound to dredge up memories that he isn't sure he wants to remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've fallen a little behind in my typing so after next week there may be a week or two without an update. If so, I apologize in advance.


	13. Chapter 13

He wakes with the sun the next morning, tired from the fitful sleep he'd had but unable to fall back to unconsciousness with the rising sun stirring his blood. It had seemed to take forever for sleep to carry him off the night before and once it had, dreams and nightmares alternated their grip on his fragile mind. He emerges groggily from his tent with the intent to meditate and is surprised to bump into a familiar face sneaking out of Sokka's. His eyes meet Suki's and his brow raises in surprise. A blush dusts her cheeks and she smiles at him awkwardly before darting back to her own bed. Zuko ignores it. What Suki chooses to do is her business and hers alone, though he can't help but wonder how she can want to be intimate with someone else after all she'd been through.

He brushes the thought aside and makes his way to what is left of the campfire and their short supply of wood scraps. He builds the fire back up as much as is possible and settles in front of it to meditate. He'll need as much inner calm as he can muster before he returns to his childhood home away from home.

He abandons his meditation when the others begin to stir. One by one they make their way to the fire and Zuko stokes the flames a little higher so they can cook the rest of the rice for breakfast. Sokka settles at Zuko's side and spreads a map out across his lap. He doesn't miss the way the younger boys cheeks flush just a little darker when Suki takes a seat across from them. Zuko gives her a shy half smile and turns his attention to Sokka's map. The water tribe boy catches his glance and points to a small island on the western coast of the Fire Nation archipelago. “I'm pretty sure we're here,” he starts, “and Caldera City is here,” he points to the capital as if Zuko needed help identifying it. “So where is this Ember Island place?”

Zuko considers the map for a moment before settling his finger on a small island to the southeast of Huoshan Island where the capital is located. “Here.” Sokka takes it in and traces his finger along a path from where they are now to Ember Island and from Ember Island to Huoshan, calculating distances in his head. “The Royal Beach House is on the eastern shore at the top of a ridge. It's probably best if we land in the courtyard to avoid drawing attention.” Sokka nods in agreement and rolls up the map without further comment.

They land by midday in the sand-swept courtyard. Zuko leaps from Appa's saddle and stares at the looming hulk of the beach house. The others hang back, giving him his space. He hardly notices. He's too busy steeling himself for the assault of memories that lie behind the great cedar doors. He pulls at the door handle, but they're locked tight. He readies himself to kick them down when a small hand lands on his arm, preventing him. Toph strides confidently to the doors, feeling around until she finds the keyhole. She fiddles with something he can't quite see for several seconds before there's a soft click and she pushes the heavy doors open effortlessly.

The house is devoid of life but it echoes with reminders of the past. There are the couches along the walls of the sitting room under the large windows where his mother had told him stories, now covered with cloths to protect them from dust. There's a chest along the back wall with a clay tablet impressed with the shape of a small hand sitting atop it. A wooden sword that had once belonged to Zuko's cousin Lu-Ten is propped up in a corner, forgotten. The thing that catches his attention, however, is the large portrait on the wall opposite the door.

Zuko stands frozen, eyes locked on it as though it might come alive as his friends gather in the front room around him. Katara follows his gaze and rushes forward excitedly, lifting the portrait from it's place on the wall. The group gathers around her, all except Toph and Zuko who stay back, each for their own reasons. There's the noise of chatter as they scrutinize the painting in her hands, murmurs about how strangely normal the Firelord and Azula look and how young and cute Zuko is. Their focus on the portrait makes him feel deeply unsettled. The thought that they might look at it, and him, and be able to see the cracks from what Ozai has done rears its ugly head. He wishes they would ignore it, or better yet destroy it. Let the past die.

Katara marvels at his mothers beauty and he changes his mind. He doesn't want the past to die, not entirely. “She looks so... sad,” she says. There's an air of confusion to her tone, like there's something off about Lady Ursa that she can't quite put her finger on but she plans to figure it out. If there's one thing Zuko can't have, it's Katara and the rest of his friends scrutinizing his family and looking for the dark secrets that lie beneath the surface. Zuko snatches the portrait out of her hands and within seconds it's reduced to ash.

Hey! What did you do that for?” Sokka stares at him in shock.

Zuko looks grimly at the ash at his feet. “I'd rather not be reminded constantly of my father while we're here.” He doesn't look at them, but he decides to give them just enough information so they won't dig any deeper. “He's not a good person. Growing up with him was.... I didn't have a very good childhood and I'd rather not think about it.”

He risks a glance at the group. Somberness has replaced the excitement and enthusiasm from moments earlier as though they'd forgotten why they were here and were only just now remembering. This isn't a vacation. They're here to stop a war and Zuko's father is the one leading it. Katara looks at the delicate ash on the floor. She looks sad and contemplative. “But... it wasn't just him in that picture.” She absentmindedly touches the pendant at her throat. “Surely not everyone in your family is awful... right?” There's a pause as though she isn't sure if she should say more but she takes the risk anyway. “What about your mom? I know you've never really talked about her, but she looked, I don't know, nice?”

There's a pang of sorrow when he thinks about her. Losing her still hurt in so many ways. “She was,” He agrees. “My mom was... she was the best.”

Katara stares sadly. “How did she end up with someone like Ozai?”

Zuko doesn't have to answer because Toph does it for him. The blind girl leans against the wall and tsks at their ignorance. “Don't you dunderheads know anything about high society?” Their silence serves as encouragement for her to continue. “I can't say I know a whole lot about the Fire Nation, but I do know about nobility. Feel free to let me know if I'm wrong, Sparky, but my guess is that the Fire Lady didn't have a choice. Did she?” The last bit is aimed in Zuko's general direction.

“She was never the Fire Lady,” he started, “but no.”

Sokka catches on quickly. “It was an arranged marriage.”

“Yeah.” The others glance around awkwardly at each other. Zuko knows what they're all thinking, what must it have been like to be married to someone like Ozai against your will? He knows the answer too. Awful. He'd been too young to understand things at the time, but Zuko's grown now and he knows better. He knows that the occasional bruise that peeked out of her sleeves were from fingers that gripped too tightly, that there were probably others where no one could see. He knows that the tight smiles she gave at parties and banquets were forced and not at all like the smiles she turned on him and Azula. He knows that she wasn't nearly as happy as he'd thought she was when he was little, that Ozai was likely no less brutal and coercive with her than he was with Zuko. It pains Zuko to think of what his mother must have lived through.

The silence stretches on and Zuko thinks that will be the end of it, but Katara's curiosity gets the better of her. She's quiet and reserved when she speaks and again Zuko feels like there's some deeper connection compelling her to ask that she isn't sharing. “What was she like?” Her hand hasn't left the carved stone in the hollow of her throat and Zuko thinks there's a story there but he doesn't ask.

Remembering his childhood might be difficult and depressing, but the same can't be said of his memories of his mother. He excuses himself, leaving the others standing in the front room confused. He remembers the way even now, all these years later. Top of the stairs, down the hall, second door on the left. His old room is exactly as he'd left it. Scrolls are slotted into cubbies on his writing desk, a pair of wooden practice dao are tucked into a corner. A fine layer of dust coats the tops of long forgotten chests of linens and wardrobes of casual summer clothes long since past fitting and probably falling to tatters. He reaches under his pillow and pulls out a small, palm sized portrait. He smiles remembering how his mother had tucked it there for him one day when he'd told her he had a nightmare. She'd told him that as long as the picture was there she could watch over him while he slept and keep the bad dreams away. Too bad it hadn't worked back then, and it certainly wouldn't now, but he'd kept it there anyway so that he would always have her with him and he wouldn't be alone.

He returns to the group and hands the portrait to Katara. She studies it intently as the others gather tightly around her to see and Toph leans sullenly against the wall. “What's going on?” She asks, annoyed at being left out.

Suki is the one who replies. “It's a picture of his mother.” The long dark hair and the flame shaped hairpiece identify her as the same woman from the family portrait. There's really only one key difference between them, in this one she's smiling. It's an honest smile, her eyes seeming to twinkle with delight at something that only she can see.

Zuko's voice is soft, his eyes on the floor as he reminisces. “She was nice... and kind. She always tried to make me feel better when Azula was mean to me, or when my father was angry with me. She never yelled. She made me feel safe. She would hug me whenever I was upset and sit with me in the gardens feeding the turtle-ducks or telling me stories. She loved the theater and sometimes she would read me her favorite plays before bed.” There was a pause and he added quietly, “She loved me... no matter what”

“She sounds really great.” Toph sounded... soft, was the only way Zuko could describe the gentleness coming from the usually brash girl.

“She was.”

Katara lowers the portrait and bites her lip. Her eyes flick toward Zuko. “What happened to her?”

Zuko's shoulders slump. “I don't know. I woke up one day and she was gone. My father wouldn't tell us what happened to her and we were forbidden to talk about her after that. I think she's probably dead, even though we never had a funeral.” That had never sat right with him. It seemed wrong that his father hadn't given his mother funeral rites, though it wasn't unheard of to deny them in certain circumstances.

Just like that, the mood turned somber once more. Katara's voice is quiet and full of emotion. “I'm sorry.”

Aang looks from the portrait to Zuko and he smiles. “You look a lot like her, you know. So in a way, she'll always be with you.”

Zuko knows Aang is trying to be helpful, but his stomach drops anyway and he clenches his hands into fists trying to will away the sudden sickness he feels at those words. He swallows the bile that creeps up the back of his throat and changes the subject abruptly enough that Aang clearly knows he's misspoken. “Anyway, there are rooms upstairs. The second one on the left is mine and they'll need a little cleaning, but you can help yourself. There's only five though unless someone wants to stay in the servants quarters.”

No one says anything about the sudden whiplash shift of conversation. Instead a chatter builds about sleeping arrangements. Katara offers to share a room with Toph, which the younger girl immediately turns down. “I don't think so Sugar Queen. If it's all the same to you, I'm gonna sleep outside.”

Zuko's ingrained etiquette lessons demand that he be the best host possible. “Are you sure?”

The fiery little girl brushes him off. “Positive. Thanks for the offer Sparky, but there's too much wood in these fancy fire nation houses for my liking. I can't see a thing in here. I'll stick to good old solid earth if you don't mind.”

The pit that had opened in his stomach eases a little and Zuko's lips curl up slightly at the corners. It's something he's noticed happening more and more often since he's joined the group. Sokka claps his hands together loudly, drawing Zuko's attention. The dark skinned boy is grinning madly. “I call dibs on the Jerk-Lord's room.”

The smile falls from Zuko's face. “No!” He surprises himself with the harshly barked response. All eyes are back on him making him squirm under his skin. He can't tell them the truth, that even in the absence of Ozai's physical presence the very idea of Sokka spread out on the Firelord's bed makes him feel sick. “The Firelord's rooms are off limits.” His voice is calm and measured. He gives no reason and no one asks for one.

Toph makes herself comfortable, lounging against a wall with her feet up on a low table, while Zuko shows the others up the stairs, pointing out the room at the far end of the hall that isn't to be disturbed. They go about choosing their rooms and then deciding who will venture into town to pick up supplies at the market. Ultimately they decide that while Zuko knows the island best, he and Aang are too noticeable and are better off staying behind. Toph excuses herself from the chore on the grounds that she wouldn't be any good at shopping and she refuses to be a glorified pack mule. Suki expresses her desire to go, bust since she's only got prison clothes, the water tribe siblings are the only ones suitable for the task. Sokka grumbles as Katara counts the coins they have left and they set off down the road.


	14. Chapter 14

When the duo return to the beach house, Zuko is running through katas with the Avatar. Aang breaks form as soon as Katara crests the ridge. Training the Avatar is more difficult than Zuko expected it would be. The boy has plenty of natural talent, but he's easily distracted and has a tendency to grow bored quickly. Zuko shouts at him to focus and cringes when the Avatar flinches. He knows all too well what it's like to be on the receiving end of harsh tones and hands and sharp words. It doesn't inspire the confidence to do better that people think it does, it just wears you down over time and breaks your spirit. He doesn't want to teach like that and for the most part he doesn't, but sometimes he catches himself getting frustrated and yelling. It happens more often than he'd like.   
  
Zuko takes a deep breath and releases it slowly, tempering his annoyance. “You have to work on your focus. A distraction in battle can be deadly. If you're going to face the Firelord you need to have complete focus. He's not going to spare you. If he sees an opening he won't hesitate to strike you down.” His words seem to get through to Aang and the boy resumes his stance and works flawlessly through the steps of the striking dragon form. He finishes the final strike and looks at Zuko expectantly.

Zuko freely gives the praise the he himself had often been denied. “Good work. That's enough for today. Tomorrow we can start on the advanced sets.” Aang practically beams with pride and Zuko can't help but smile in return as the twelve year old goes bounding off to help Katara unpack the spoils of their shopping trip. Zuko mops the sweat from his brow with a soft cloth before joining the others.

The trip to the market seems to have gone well and Zuko is glad that he'd entrusted the pouch of money he'd brought with him to Katara instead of leaving it in his room at the temple. If he hadn't, they would have had to sell something from the summer house and that might have attracted attention. The baskets the siblings set down in the courtyard are laden with fresh fruits and vegetables. There's a sack of rice poking out of one and Zuko catches a glimpse of a plucked komodo chicken tucked away under some things where hopefully Aang won't see it. There are a several paper packets nestled among the food as well. He plucks one from its resting place and holds it to his nose. The strong scent of ground fire fern greets him.

Katara notices and the corner of her mouth quirks up in half smile. “I picked up a few spices. The shopkeeper assured me they were all pretty versatile. I hoped you could show me how to use them.”

Zuko is a little taken aback. He hadn't expected to be giving cooking tips to the Avatars waterbending master, but he smiled tentatively anyway. “Uh, sure. It shouldn't be too hard. You just have to figure out how much is too much.” Katara smiles warmly and and asks him to escort her to the kitchen to unpack the supplies.

That night they eat while lounging on the porch overlooking the beach and listen to the waves roll over the shore. The chicken isn't as spicy as he's used to, but it's decent for a first try with unfamiliar ingredients and he passes his compliments to Katara. The sunset paints the sky in pink and orange and red as the sun slips slowly beneath the horizon. Zuko can't remember the last time he enjoyed a moment like this. For the first time in years he feels unburdened. He tips his head back and closes his eyes, allowing the cool ocean breeze to wash over him.

A loose board creaks and he opens his eyes as Sokka settles down beside him. The boy has no manners at all, shoveling food into his mouth and hardly waiting to swallow before he starts talking. “This place is amazing!” Zuko can't argue with him there. The summer house had always felt like a sanctuary to him, a place where he could just exist without the constant reminders of how disappointing he was. No lessons, no training, no worrying about being a disappointment. “I guess being the Firelord's kid has its perks, huh?”

Just like that the spell is broken and Zuko's pleasant mood quickly sours. “It isn't as great as you think,” he says bitterly. He sets the remains of his meal aside, no longer hungry. The food he'd already eaten sits heavy in his stomach and he feels nauseous.

Sokka's gaze slips to Zuko's scar and stays there a moment too long to go unnoticed before slipping away. At least he has the decency to look chagrined. “Sorry.”

Zuko does his best to brush it off. He knows Sokka often says things without thinking. “It's fine. I guess you don't really have things like this at the South Pole, do you?” He hadn't stopped to give any consideration to the question, but now that it's out, Zuko is genuinely curious. Despite his royal status and top notch education, Zuko realizes he knows surprisingly little of the other nations outside of preferred fighting tactics, the resources they held, and their ever changing borders on the map. The cultural and spiritual aspects of the other nations was never deemed worthy of study.

Sokka glances at him in disbelief. “You're kidding, right? I grew up on a block of ice. Half the year the sun never set, the other half it never rose. My entire house was the size of your bedroom. I'm pretty sure the whole village could have fit in the palace with plenty of room to spare.” He barked out a laugh. “I don't think things _could_ be more different than where I grew up.”

Zuko's brow wrinkles in confusion. “I thought you were the chiefs son? Why would you live like a peasant?”

“First off, rude.” Zuko winced and apologized but Sokka didn't seem to actually be offended. “Don't worry about it.” He waved away Zuko's apology like the offense had happened ages ago. “And to answer your question, I am, but things aren't like they are here. You aren't born to be chief, the village decides who they think will be the best leader and no one gets special treatment. Everyone pretty much lives the same and we all share our resources with the whole tribe. In the south we have igloos made of packed snow and tents for the summer months when it warms up a little. There aren't any ostentatious palaces or summer homes. If you were to build something this big,” he said gesturing behind him at the beach house, “there, you'd freeze to death. It's different in the north of course, but they're a bit pretentious. And they have waterbenders, so I'm sure that probably makes a difference.”

Not for the first time, Zuko feels shamed by the devastation wrought by his family on Sokka and Katara's. Sokka must see it written on Zuko's face because he tells Zuko it's not his fault before he can even say anything. Zuko doesn't know how the other boy can be so forgiving after everything he's lost. Sokka just barrels on, excitedly explaining how the waterbenders built huge palaces in the north and voicing his hypothesis about how he thinks they might heat the whole thing, admitting that he'd been a little too preoccupied while he was there to give it much thought at the time. “In the south we have to build by hand so smaller is easier. And like I said before, it's hard to heat an igloo if it's too big, especially if the only waterbender around is your little sister who can barely make a water ball float. There aren't really any trees in the south pole so any timber we do get is either from trading or scavenged driftwood. We can't afford to waste it by burning it for warmth. We have to save it to build our boats and smoke the seal harvest and maybe take the occasional bath. We use seal oil for heat and most of our cooking so we make up for the minimal heating by building small and wearing anoraks and sleeping together under polar dog furs. If the room is small enough then between the oil lamps and body heat it gets surprisingly cozy.”

Zuko pointedly doesn't wonder how any of that works when it comes to... intimate... moments. He decides to go with a different line of questioning instead. “What happens if you have guests? Where are they supposed to sleep?”

Sokka chuckles. “We don't really have outside visitors in the South much, not since the raids started and we were cut off from the Northern tribe. But, if we did it would be considered respectful to offer them a place in the Chief's home. If there are more visitors than can fit there then the most important members would stay with the chief and the rest would be given places to stay among the rest of the tribe.” He grins at Zuko. “Hey, maybe once the war is over you can be the Southern Tribe's first official guest in a century.”

Zuko forces a half smile and gives a noncommittal reply. He doesn't want to be rude or hurt Sokka's feelings by refusing such a kind and friendly gesture, but the idea of being crammed into a small room between Hakoda and Sokka and his sister doesn't appeal to him in the least.

Apparently, he isn't the only one. From her rocky lounge, Toph groans. “Ugh. Sounds awful.”

Sokka huffs, insulted. “Well I'll be sure never to invite you then.”

“Fine by me. Who wants to go to a place where you have to wear shoes all the time or lose your toes anyway?” She wiggles her toes to emphasize her point and the others all chuckle.

“Fine, I admit it. The South Pole isn't the greatest by a long shot, but it's home.” The statement rings true for Zuko too, not about the South Pole, but about the Ember Island house. Everywhere he goes on the estate, the Firelord's presence looms over Zuko like a ghost. Everywhere he looks there are little reminders of the man he'd been trying to leave behind, but there are equally as many reminders of his mother and Zuko finds that he's willing to put up with his demons to have the memories of her that are intertwined among them.

Zuko is content to spend the rest of the evening in silence, letting his companions idle conversation wash over him like the waves below. The moon is high in the sky by the time they all begin to wander off to their respective rooms. Toph had bent herself an earth tent and shouted at the others to keep it down about an hour ago. Zuko's own energy is flagging as he drags himself up the steps to his childhood bedroom. He falls asleep on a bed that smells musty from disuse with dust tickling his nose and his mothers portrait propped up on the bedside table to watch over him. If he dreams, they don't wake him and in the morning he doesn't remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally have a chapter count up! You know what that means, we're in the final stretch now. Soon this rocky journey will be over. I hope it's worth it to you.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for all the lovely comments. I wish I could respond to them all. Know that I appreciate each and every one. Knowing that you all are enjoying this is a great feeling.

They fall into a routine. Aang and Zuko wake early and meditate with the dawning sun, followed by an intense bout of firebending training, all before breakfast. After breakfast, Katara or Toph take over, putting him through his paces in their element while whomever is on cleanup duty washes the breakfast dishes. After lunch, Aang has a chance to rest. Sometimes Zuko will spar with Sokka in the early evening or practice combat skills with Suki. The day typically ends with the six children settling around a fire in the courtyard with dinner and tea, talking and laughing together as though they aren't preparing for war.

Zuko listens happily to stories of days long past, tales of life among the airbenders and traveling the world, friends left behind, and sibling rivalries. Suki shares stories of her girls and tells Zuko and Toph about Sokka's first encounter with the warriors of Kyoshi. The Water Tribesman ducks his head in shame and humiliation as she recounts how he'd acted and subsequently been made a fool of. At the end of it, she jostles his shoulder playfully and Sokka smiles through the blush darkening his cheeks. Toph talks about running away from her overbearing parents and learning earthbending from the badgermoles themselves and relates incredible stories about earthbending rumbles that make Zuko wish he could have seen her in them. He has no doubt when she brags about winning every match. Sokka and Katara talk a lot about growing up in the south, before their father left and things got hard. Sokka's stories tend to focus on hunting trips with his father and learning to use his boomerang while Katara's frequently mention her mother.

Every now and then, Zuko shares a bit of himself too, the bits that don't sear his soul but only ache with a sense of loss and grief. Most often he finds himself talking about his mother, about how she loved the theater and took him with her as often as she could, or how she would tell him spirit tales by the turtle duck pond as they fed them seeds and bits of bread. He often catches sight of tears in Katara's eyes when he does. She never lets them fall but wipes them away as soon as they threaten to spill over.

On rare occasions he shares stories about Azula, memories from before she'd begun bending and they'd started being conditioned to compete against one another, or the odd story from after when they would set aside their rivalry to escape some boring court function together. Sometimes he talks about his cousin Lu-Ten whom he'd looked up to like a brother. Other times he talks about his uncle even though he hasn't seen the man in years. When Zuko was younger, his uncle was often away on campaign, but when he was home he often made time for Zuko and he remembers his uncle fondly.

It's from these stories that he learns that many of the others had met the man themselves and have their own stories to share. Katara tells him how Iroh had stood up to Admiral Zhao during the siege of the north when he'd decided to kill the moon spirit. Zuko has only heard the propaganda at court about the battle and his uncle's supposed treason and while he'd always believed it wasn't true it was nice to have his thoughts confirmed. Toph talks about the time she ran away after a fight with Katara, not long after she'd joined Aang's little group, and how she'd met his uncle on the road and shared tea. He can't help but smile when she tells him that his uncle spoke of him to an almost annoying degree and worried for his safety. When Aang recounts how the old man had taught him to redirect lightning when they'd run into him in Ba Sing Se the shock must show on his face.

Aang looks genuinely puzzled by Zuko's reaction. “I thought all royal firebenders could create lightning? Wouldn't you have learned to redirect it too?”

Zuko shakes his head, bewildered. “Most royal firebenders _can_ produce lightning, but I've never been able to. Even if I could, I've never even heard of redirecting it before.”

Aang just smiles brightly. “Maybe I can teach you. Iroh said you don't have to be able to shoot lightning to redirect it, so you should be able to. It's kind of like the meditations we do, actually. It's all about feeling the flow of your chi.”

Zuko considers it and shrugs. “I suppose it's worth a shot. We'll need every trick we can think of to defeat the Firelord.”

So it goes. Each day they train, they eat together, they tell stories, and Zuko becomes closer to them. A week later Zuko and Aang are just finishing up their practice when Suki and Sokka burst into the makeshift training arena radiating with barely contained excitement. Sokka unfurls a theater poster with a flourish. “Look! They made a play about us.” He begins reading off the details enthusiastically and Zuko can't help but groan when he hears the words 'Ember Island Players'. All eyes turn expectantly on him and he slumps over. “My mom used to take us to see them. They butchered Love Amongst the Dragons every year.”

Sokka pouts. “Oh come on. This is just the kind of wacky time wasting nonsense I've been missing. We should go. It'll be fun”

Zuko isn't swayed. He wishes he could have convinced the others, but they seem just as enthusiastic as Sokka is. Instead, they try to convince Zuko to change his mind and join them but he adamantly refuses to budge on this. If they want to go see some terrible Fire Nation propaganda about themselves, they're welcome to it, but Zuko isn't about to subject himself to that. Even if the Ember Island Players were good, he still wouldn't want to know what kind of slander is being spread about him by his own people. In the end, the gaang give up and end up going without him.

It's strange, wandering the empty rooms and halls of the beach house alone. It had always been full of life in the past, servants bustling around making sure things were perfect for the prince and his family, the lilt of his mothers voice as she sang or told stories, the clatter of footsteps as he and Azula chased each other through the corridors. Now, without even his friends there's nothing but an eerie silence. It feels so much more oppressive to be here without them around to distract him from his darker thoughts.

He escapes to the courtyard and runs through his bending forms, paying special attention to the redirection technique that Aang had insisted on showing him. He knows that mastering this one move could be the difference between whether he lived or died in a battle against his family. He feels his chi paths and the flow of energy along them. He thinks he has the move down, but he'll never be sure until the moment of truth. After he's run through every form he knows at least twice, he moves onto sword katas. His blades whirl and flash, flowing fluidly from each slash and block to another. Just for the fun of it he decides to work in some of the agility he had reluctantly picked up from Ty-Lee, incorporating backflips and aerial acrobatics into his usual routine. They might not be entirely practical, but even he has to admit the difficulty makes landing a properly executed flourish all the more satisfying and he knows that had anyone been watching it would have made for quite the spectacle. It's a small bit of fun he allows himself, the most fun he'd had in years.

He pants, the burn of the muscles in his arms and thighs from the exercise is a pleasant sensation. He sheathes his dao and wipes away the sweat beading on his forehead and neck. He makes his way to the bath. That's one positive of not having the others around, he can bathe without waiting until odd hours to make sure he won't be disturbed. It was always awkward when Sokka and Aang invited him to share a bath with them after training and he would have to make up excuses to avoid having to accept or seem rude. Neither of them had ever pressed the issue, but they must have thought it strange all the same that he'd never joined them once. He fills a basin with water and washes off before climbing into the deep-set tub fed by the underground hot springs on the island. The hot water soothes his aching muscles and he lets out a long slow sigh as the heat relaxes him.

He's on his way to his room after having soaked for a decent amount of time, enjoying the luxury of this moment of privacy when he finds himself drawn to the room at the end of the hall. He stands before the imposing wooden door. A shiver runs down his spine. He cups a flame in his palm. It flickers, casting distorted shadows over the walls and across the floor. He reaches out a hand, rests it on the handle and swallows to dislodge the lump of dread that is suddenly choking him.

The door groans from lack of care as Zuko pushes it open. Gooseflesh rises on his arms as he steps inside. Like the rest of the house, it's empty. There's no one here but ghosts. Nothing of note has happened in this room. Still, he struggles to breathe. Pale moonlight seeps through the windows illuminating what his fire doesn't.

The room is a reflection of the man who'd slept here: severe and orderly, luxurious and somewhat ostentatious for Zuko's tastes. There are tapestries on the walls depicting decisive battles in Fire Nation history, hardly what Zuko would consider appropriate bedroom décor. There's a writing desk against a wall with a plush chair and several blank scrolls tucked neatly away. To the right of the door, above the red wedding cabinet, is a large wedding portrait. Dragons curl around the image, carved into the ornate frame. Their scales glint dimly where gold leaf shines through the gathered dust. An elaborately decorated vase stands on a carved table which Zuko imagined would have been filled with fresh flowers whenever his family visited. Against the back wall, a darkly lacquered cabinet stands. The bed looms imposingly in the center of the room on a raised dais, draped in blood red silks, a bed fit for a high prince with a table beside and a lamp thereon.

Zuko steps forward. Each footfall conjuring flashes of that first night, and so many thereafter, being marched to the Firelord's bed like a common concubine. His heart thumps in his chest. The warm night air is suddenly stifling. It catches in his throat and he can hardly breathe. He reaches the foot of the bed and runs his fingertips across the sheets. _Long pale fingers clutching the sheets like a lifeline. His face pressed into the mattress to hide his tears and muffle his cries._ He isn't there. This place is empty and Ozai can't hurt him, not anymore. He repeats the words like a mantra as he sits on the edge of the bed and conjures a flame. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply with the fire, centering himself. It takes some time, but eventually Zuko calms. He opens his eyes and looks around. There's nothing notable about this place. It's just a room, just a bed. It can't rule him unless he allows it to. He no longer chokes on each breath. He lets out a sigh, a measure of the weight he's been carrying lifted from his shoulders.

He closes the creaky door behind him as he leaves. There's nothing ominous about it now. It's not the sound of whispered horrors, just neglect. He makes his way down the stairs, out of the door and down the path to the beach below. The tang of the sea air stings his nose and the sand shifts underfoot. He sits just beyond the reach of the gently lapping waves and lays back to gaze at the stars. His eyes trace the familiar designs his mother had once pointed out to him long ago, the great dragon, the eternal flame, the lion turtle, the badgermole, Agni's wheel. There, in the center of the wheel is Agni's guide, the brightest star in the sky lit by Agni himself to guide his people home.

He's so caught up picking out celestial patterns and recalling the stories that belong to them that he's no longer paying attention to his surroundings. He's surprised when there's a soft thump in the sand to his left and he starts, just a little, until he turns his head and sees Toph digging her fingers and toes into the cooling sand with a frown. “How was the play?” The question is more idle conversation than an actual inquiry. He's well enough acquainted with the theatrical styling of the Ember Island Players to know the answer. It was terrible. Even if he hadn't had prior experience to go on, the little girls frown says it all.

“It was awful. We should have listened to you and stayed far away from that garbage. Aang pouted the whole time because he was played by a girl and Sokka's character's jokes were worse than they usually are and all Katara's character did was cry the whole time.” Zuko raises his eyebrow at that. He can't imagine Katara crying about anything. “It actually wouldn't have been so bad if they left it at that. It was actually pretty funny watching everyone get so butt hurt about how they were portrayed.”  
  


Zuko chuckles. “What about you? Were you mad about what they did with your character?”

Toph falls back and folds her arms under her head. “No way. I was the best part of the whole play. I was a big muscley guy. What's not to love about that?” The grin slipped from her face and she sight dramatically. “The real problem was the ending.” Zuko can only imagine. “It ended with Sozin's comet. You were fighting Azula and Aang was fighting Ozai and you both died. Everyone cheered,” she added bitterly.

Zuko swallows thickly. He's uncomfortable knowing he'd been in the play at all and it doesn't help knowing that his own people were cheering for his death. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “I should have warned you. I knew it'd be propaganda.”

The tiny earthbender shrugs where she lies. “It's not your fault. You tried to tell us not to go. We should have listened, but we didn't and now everyone's in a bad mood. So,” her tone had shifted and now there's a hint of sly curiosity to it. “Is it true you tried to murder the Firelord on the day of black sun?”

Zuko starts. “What?! Of course not. You were there. I left with Aang and I didn't even go back with you guys to confront him.”

She shrugs again. “Eh, I thought maybe it was before you left. Still, it made you seem a lot more badass than you really were when you joined us.”

Zuko is floored. Toph might've been impressed, but it's a damning accusation, and one that will no doubt affect his people's view of him just the way his father intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't had much to say in my update notes lately. The next chapter is a bit of a long one compared to the last few and I'm caught up to where what I'm typing is what I should be posting so there probably won't be an update next week. Expect updates to be every two weeks from now on just to be safe.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one I think some of you may have been waiting for, whether you know it or not. This one was a bit harder to write than some and I hope you enjoy it. Let me know how you feel things went over. I don't want to say too much so I don't spoil what the chapter holds =)

Their trip to see the Ember Island Players seems to have reinvigorated the small band of child warriors. Zuko finds himself more exhausted than ever when he curls up in bed at night and he's asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. Aang's firebending has improved dramatically. He's at least as good as Zuko now, if not better. Zuko's been working more with Sokka and Suki too, helping them to hone their own skills. When he's not busy with either of them he spars with Katara and Toph, teaching them how to counter the common tactics typically employed by imperial firebenders as well as giving suggestions on how best to utilize their own elements against less formal, more creative attacks such as his own. Everyone is working hard and their training is going well. Zuko thinks they might actually have a chance.

Four days before the comet will come, they set up a mock battle to test their training. Toph stands at the center of a tall hill on their makeshift battleground. A scarecrow representing the Firelord stands at her back. She will play the part of the defensive line, attempting to keep them from reaching their goal. They fight well through earthen dummy troops while flaming rocks rain upon them. Toph isn't holding back, but that's good. They need that right now. Aang manages to slip past her, reaching his target. He prepares to make the final blow and... freezes. The blade of air he'd been preparing to lash out with dissipating around him.

Sokka looks furious. He marches up the hill, facing down the young airbender. In one swift motion he unsheathes his sword and swings it at the dummy without ever taking his eyes off of Aang. He effortlessly cleaves the melon acting as Ozai's head in two without hesitation. The image is made more gruesome as Momo darts over from wherever he'd been hiding and begins to eat the fruit from the rind. “That's how it's done.” Gone is the comical jokester Zuko knows the boy to be. In this moment he's a warrior. He's never seen Sokka look as brutally confident or dangerous than he had when he'd swung his blade. Whatever battles they've already faced, however well they've prepared, that single action drives home exactly what they've been preparing for. It's sobering.

The rest of the day is subdued. Aang in particular seems despondent. Zuko isn't sure how to feel. For most of his life he's tried desperately to earn his fathers love. He's grown a lot since those days. He's aware enough to know that the familial, unconditional love he'd always searched for would never come. Ozai isn't capable of it. He can only extend the kind of love that comes from greed and selfishness: physicality that benefited only himself and praise and exaltation to create and shape his children into weapons of war for his own gain. Zuko hates the man, there's no question about that, but he still can't find it in him to celebrate his death. How can he when he knows that killing the Firelord will destroy Aang too? One more casualty on Ozai's rampage of destruction.

Zuko feels pathetic in the moment. How can he expect the exuberant and kind airbender he'd come to know to do something so opposite his nature simply because Zuko is too much of a coward to do it himself? That's the dark truth of the matter. It's up to Aang because Zuko is still too afraid of him. He wonders, as he sits at the edge of the firelight on the steps of his childhood escape, how he will feel when Ozai is dead. Will he be relieved, finally able to bury his secrets forever never to be told? Will he still mourn because even after everything, at the end of the day Ozai was still his father? Would he be numb, unable to feel anything at all for the loss of a life? Would that make him a monster?

Zuko listens as Aang agonizes over the impending confrontation. “I can't just go around wiping out people I don't like.” He turns to Zuko. “Zuko, he's your dad. Don't you have anything to say about this? I mean, _you_ at least must not want him to die!”

Zuko has never felt so put on the spot. He knows Aang is hoping for his support, at least one person who's on his side in this impossible situation, but he can't give him that. Zuko doesn't know what will become of him in the aftermath of Ozai's death, but he does know Ozai must die. He sits back against a support pillar and takes a steadying breath and lets it out slowly. “Firelord Ozai is a monster... and the worst father in the history of fathers,” he adds as an afterthought and Aang's pleading expression falters, suddenly seeing where this is going. “I wish I could tell you there was another way for your sake, but he's too dangerous. If he's allowed to live he'll find a way to claw himself out of whatever dungeon you put him in to regain power and control and nothing we're doing will matter. The only way I can see to stop this war and save the world from being burnt to ash is to kill him. I'm sorry Aang. He's not a merciful man. He won't listen to you. He won't go easy on you just because you're a kid. If you stand in his way, he'll strike you down. He'll be fighting to the death when you go up against him, and that means you'll have to too.” Aang glowers at him, betrayed, and stalks off into the darkened beach house. Zuko hangs his head, eaten up with guilt.

His dreams that night are uneasy, full of horrific images of the battle to come. They're streaked with the images of his friends falling in battle, bloody, singed corpses staring lifelessly at a burning sky. He sees Aang, no more than a child, struck down by Ozai. That's perhaps the best scenario his dreams present for Aang. Worse are the horrific images of Ozai subduing the boy and taking him prisoner.

Somehow, the nightmares didn't wake him. He'd prefer if they had just so that they'd end. Instead, he wakes with the sun, groggy and poorly rested. He doesn't bother looking for Aang this morning. Let him rest today. Zuko regrets that decision when he arrives at breakfast and the boy is nowhere in sight. Katara looks at him and frowns. “Where's Aang?”

Zuko's stomach drops. “I let him sleep in. He isn't with you?”

Katara's brow creases with worry. “He hasn't been around all morning. We figured he was training with you.” All around the fire eyes meet with worried glances.

Zuko takes a deep breath. They can't panic. Aang has to be here somewhere. He wouldn't just abandon them. Zuko takes charge, splitting up the group. They need to search the villa. They'll cover the entire island if they have to, but they'll find him. If they don't... they'll have to decide on a new course of action. He pinches the bridge of his nose and growls in frustration. The comet is only three days away. They don't have time for this.

Aang is nowhere to be found in the villa, or on the island at all it seems. Zuko was hoping it wouldn't come to this, that Aang would be off somewhere meditating or even pouting for spirits sake, anything other than running off and leaving them to pick up the pieces. The group hikes up the path from the beach to the top of the cliff, each of them worried, and angry, and hurt at Aang's disappearance. There's a dark skinned man standing tall in front of the house waiting for them when they reach the top of the ridge. Zuko is instantly on guard. He steps forward, ready to shield his friends. He wishes he had his swords, it seems wrong to fight a swordsman with bending, but he'll do what's necessary. He nods in acknowledgment to the other man, “Master Piandao.”

The older man smiles and bows respectfully, a noble to his better. “Prince Zuko.” Zuko is surprised by Piandao's response. He's seen the wanted posters. He knows he holds no standing in the Fire Nation. Piandao doesn't owe him the respect he's given. He rises slightly, another bow for the children behind Zuko. “Sokka... and friends.”

Sokka surprises Zuko by returning it. “Master Piandao.” He looks between the sword master and Zuko. “How do you know Zuko? And what are you doing here?”

Piandao smiles warmly and stands tall. “Prince Zuko was a student of mine years ago. Best wielder of dual dao I've ever had the honor of teaching, if I recall. Didn't he tell you?” Sokka can't do much more than gape. Piandao's gaze slides to Zuko, who blushes at the praise. “Not all in the Fire Nation are so quick to believe the Firelord's propaganda, Prince Zuko. You still have allies here. I wish I could have come to you sooner, but you're a hard man to find. I have news from Ba Sing Se.”

Zuko remains guarded. He wants to trust Piandao, but what news could he bring from a city brought to heel? He thinks of his uncle and the heralds who had come to the palace extolling his uncle's capture and the city's fall. Perhaps there's news of an uprising. It could prove advantageous if they use it as a distraction, strike while Ozai is otherwise engaged. He gestures for Piandao to follow him as the others settle themselves on the porch.

Zuko offers the older man a seat in the front sitting room. He leaves the doors open, anything Piandao has to say, his friends have a right to hear too. He retrieves a tea set, brewing a pot more to keep his hands busy than for hospitality reasons. As he heats the kettle between his palms, Piandao asks a question. “Are you familiar with the Order of the White Lotus, Prince Zuko?” Zuko measures out the tea leaves and adds them to the pot, shaking his head. Piandao hmms. “It's a secret society of men who take an interest in philosophy and believe in the balance of the four nations. Shortly after the eclipse a call went out from a grand lotus, your uncle.” Zuko almost drops the pot at that, but Piandao ignores his fumble. “He called for our members to gather by the walls of Ba Sing Se. He hopes to liberate the city on the day of the comet. It wasn't until after we'd gathered that we heard of the runaway Prince. He asked me to find you. As a nonbender and a respected member of the Fire Nation, I was the most suited for the task.”

Zuko sets the pot down, forgotten. “Uncle... escaped?” His voice is barely more than a whisper.

Piandao smiles. “It'll take more than iron bars to cage the Dragon of the West. He would like to see you, Prince Zuko.”

Zuko is elated. He can hardly believe what he is hearing. His uncle is ok. He's free. He wants to jump up and say yes, take me to him, but Katara cuts in before he can speak. “Zuko, I know you want to see your uncle, but we need to find Aang and come up with a plan. We just don't have time for this.”

Zuko clamps his mouth shut, clenching his jaw tightly. He's angry and hurt. Jealousy and shame swirl inside him and he can't help but think, _why not? I risked my life to make sure you saw your father again. I put myself on the line time and time again to help you all. All I want is to see the one person I still have who ever cared about me and you won't let me, after everything I've sacrificed._ He knows its a selfish thought but it doesn't keep the tears from stinging his eyes at the unfairness of it all. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes several measured breaths to calm himself before he says something he doesn't really mean in the heat of the moment. He thinks about the situation at hand and a realization dawns on him. “We're running out of time, I know. But we've already searched the island. Aang isn't here. It's like you said, we need a plan. I don't know about any of you, but I don't have one. This could be an opportunity. My uncle can help us. He was a general. If anyone can come up with a strategy to stop the Firelord without Aang, it'll be him.” No one argues with him and he feels hopeful.

Piandao gets to his feet. “Well then, if you'll join me, I suggest we leave as soon as possible. You should collect your things. There won't be time to return before the comet.”

The group makes quick work of gathering weapons and armor, clothes, and supplies, whatever odds and ends might come in handy during their short journey and the battle to come. Zuko straps his dao to his back and takes a last look around the beach house, convinced that he'll never set foot there again. Before he leaves, he tucks his mothers portrait securely into the sash around his waist. It digs into his abdomen, but he doesn't mind. Whatever lies ahead, she'll be with him and that thought alone brings him a sense of comfort.

Piandao directs the group to the White Lotus' encampment on the outskirts of the once great city of Ba Sing Se. It's night by the time they arrive. Even in the pale glimmer of moonlight the walls of the city are impressive and Zuko can't help but wonder how on earth Azula had ever managed to gain control. He'd never bothered to ask. The camp is set up to the northwest. It's small and unassuming, somewhat hidden by debris and rubble. They land on the outskirts of the camp and the swordmaster goes on ahead to announce their arrival.

Zuko is on edge with the anticipation of seeing his uncle again. He hasn't seen him since the fateful Agni Kai. So much has happened in the intervening years, Zuko has changed so much. He wonders if his uncle has too. He wonders if the years have hardened him or broken him down. Is what he remembers of his uncle a trick of his memory, or was he really as kind and caring as Zuko remembers? A tiny part of him wonders if the man he remembers is even the man his uncle really was or if there's a hidden side to him too like there was to Ozai. Most worrying of all, he wonders if his uncle will see through him the way he always seemed to in the past. He'd always known when Zuko was unhappy or disappointed or angry. Zuko hadn't been very good at schooling his emotions back then. He'd gotten better since then, he thought, but he'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't worried that his uncle would be able to sense that there was something fundamentally wrong with Zuko that can't be fixed, not entirely.

He tries to push those thoughts down as they approach the camp. Several men meet them just outside of the boundaries and Zuko notes with a measure of disappointment that his uncle isn't among them. Sokka and Katara seem to know some of them, however, as they rush to greet a stern looking water tribe man and a slightly deranged old man with more muscles than anyone his age should have. Zuko ignores the happy seeming reunion and seeks out Piandao instead. “Where's my uncle?”

The swordsman gestures to the camp. “He's back there. I'll take you to him.” A pulse of fear runs through him as he briefly wonders if his uncle had been injured. Why hadn't he come to greet them with the others?” Piandao must sense his worry, maybe he's not as good at holding back his emotions as he'd thought, and smiles reassuringly. “He's in perfect health, your highness.” The title feel foreign to Zuko but he doesn't correct his old master. He follows Piandao into the depths of the camp, stopping outside of a roomy tent. Zuko hesitates and Piandao rests a hand on his shoulder. Zuko fights not to cringe away. “He's inside.” He squeezes Zuko's shoulder and leaves.

Zuko takes a deep breath, gathering himself, before he pushes aside the tent flap and steps into the darkness within. “Uncle?” He whispers, hardly daring to speak. He's greeted with an answering snore and the slight relief that he still has time to collect himself fully. Zuko settles himself cross legged just inside the tent and resolves to wait for his uncle to wake. He's already waited three years, he can wait one more night. He dozes off at some point, his head sagging toward his chest.

He jerks awake at a sudden noise, heart hammering in his chest. He lifts his head, wincing at the soreness in his neck. He's briefly disoriented until his eyes catch on the man sitting upright on the cot opposite him. His uncle looks much the same as he did the last time Zuko had seen him. His eyes widen as the settle on Zuko and he leaps out of bed, kneeling in front of his nephew and pulling him into a tight embrace. It takes a second, but Zuko wraps his arms around his uncle in return. “It's good to see you again uncle. “ His voice wavers with emotion when he speaks and tears of happiness spring to his eyes.

“I have missed you greatly, my nephew.” The old man's voice rasps in Zuko's good ear overflowing with heartfelt joy. He pulls away, holding Zuko at arms length to look him over. Zuko wonders what he sees. He doesn't miss the pained expression that darkens his uncle's face as he takes in the scar painted over his left eye. A hand comes up to cup Zuko's left cheek and his uncle's thumb brushes lightly over the deadened mangled skin of the scars lower border. Tears slide from the old mans eyes. “Your father should never have raised his hand to you in such a way. I should have done more to prevent it.” Zuko flinches as his uncle's words and ignores the voice that reminds him that the burning wasn't the worst thing Ozai's hands had done, but uncle didn't know about that and wouldn't.

Iroh sat across from Zuko and pulled out a water skin and a teapot. It reminded Zuko of days gone by, where time with Iroh was always spent with a cup of tea. He brewed and poured as he explained. “I was furious with him, but when I confronted him about what had happened that day it only served to make him angrier.”

Zuko hadn't known that. He'd thought his separation from his uncle was another facet of his punishment. It hadn't occurred to Zuko that Iroh had stood up to his brother in his defense and earned his ire in return. “You challenged him?”

“Not to combat,” Iroh admitted. “Not directly anyway. But, after you had been brought to the physicians and I was confident you were being tended to, I confronted your father. I told him he had gone too far, that I would not stand idly by in the face of such cruelty. He was infuriated that I would dare to undermine him and he feared that I would challenge him for the throne. I was banished. I did not want to leave you behind, but I saw no other choice. After your grandfather's... unexpected death and after what he did to you, I saw how ruthless my brother could truly be in his pursuit for power. I feared that if I tried to challenge him officially he would see to it that I met an unfortunate end one way or another. I chose to accept his banishment instead. This way I could quietly plant the seeds of dissent against him and guarantee that I would still be able to help you should the need arise, as it appears it has. I only hope I did the right thing.”

There's a lump in Zuko's throat. His uncles eyes shone, searching Zuko's face for confirmation that he had done the right thing. Zuko feels sick but forces a weak smile anyway. “You did, uncle. I'm fine.” Zuko is a terrible liar, he knows, but he has enough practice pretending to be fine when he's not that almost no one can tell it's a lie anymore. Iroh doesn't show any signs of seeing through the lie either and Zuko is only glad that Toph isn't around to call him out.

His uncle grins. “For that, I am glad. And I am glad that you have chosen the path of peace by helping the Avatar. Now, why don't we go find your friends? We have much to discuss over breakfast and a pot of tea. I hope your friends like jasmine,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

The others are already situated around the cookfire eagerly digging into bowls of rice and grilled fish that they, for once, didn't have to prepare themselves when Iroh and Zuko join them. They waste no time getting down to business. “The comet is only a day away,” Sokka says bluntly through a mouthful of rice. “We don't have any more time to look for Aang. We need a new plan. Someone else will have to take on Firelord Loserpants.”

Part of Zuko wants to roll his eyes at his friends silly nickname, but he still can't bring himself to. Zuko looks to his uncle. He doesn't want to ask this of him, but he doesn't see another option. “Will you do it? Will you take on Ozai?”

Iroh lowers his chopsticks. “No. Defeating Ozai is the Avatar's destiny. I believe that when the time comes, he will be there. We must trust in your friend. He will still need your support though. My spies in the palace have informed me that Ozai is preparing a deadly strike against the Earth Kingdom. He plans to use the comet to deal a terrible blow like that which my grandfather Sozin dealt the Air Nomads. He has prepared an airship fleet on the eastern coast of the Fire Nation, ready to deliver troops to the Earth Kingdom. They will need to be destroyed, preferrably, or at the very least delayed.”

Sokka and Toph both grin. “I have some experience with airships,” Sokka says. “Leave them to us.”

“There is also Azula to consider. Ozai has left her in the Fire Nation to defend the homeland. She is set to be crowned as Firelord just before the comet arrives. She will need to be detained.”

Zuko understands. “I'll deal with Azula.” He turns to Katara. He knows she's still aching for revenge for what the girl had nearly done to Aang. “Want to help me put Azula in her place?”

A glint lights up Katara's eyes. “It would be my pleasure.”

There's only one thing left to consider. With Ozai and Azula both out of the picture, the Fire Nation would be without a leader. I won't do any good to end the hundred year war and leave the Fire Nation without a leader. The other nations might see it as an opportunity to attack and exact retribution on the nation that had subjugated them for so long, and if that weren't the case, it could well start a civil war within the Fire Nation itself. Zuko turns back to Iroh. “After, if we win, will you take your rightful place on the throne?”

Iroh shakes his head sadly. “No. I was a willing participant in this war for too long before my beloved Lu Ten was killed and showed me the error of my ways. I am too close to the old regime. The Nation needs a new leader. Someone young and strong. Someone whom none of the nations can blame for their troubles. A good man with a kind heart who knows the cruelty his nation is capable of and has the will to change it.” His eyes bore into Zuko. “It must be you. It will be difficult, but I know you can lead the Fire Nation through to an era of peace and healing. The nobles won't like it, but you will have allies among those who would rather have their sons and daughters home than off dying on the fields of battle, not to mention your allies in the other nations. I have faith in you, Prince Zuko. You are Agni's chosen.”

Zuko takes a deep breath, letting the weight of his uncles words settle across his shoulders like a mantle. It's a daunting task to be given after being told for years that he wasn't good enough, but he's determined to make his uncle proud. He shapes the flame and inclines his head to his uncle. “I'll do my best best.”

Iroh smiles. “I have no doubt that you will be a remarkable Firelord.” He turns to the rest of the group and addresses them. “You all have far to travel and you will need to go as soon as you can. We will provide you with eel hounds. There is no faster creature over land or water.” Sokka, Toph, and Suki readily accept the provided transportation, but Zuko and Katara decline in favor of taking Appa.

The remainder of the meal is subdued, each person deep in thought about their own role in the upcoming confrontation. Afterward, they gather their weapons and travel rations and prepare to leave. This is it. Whatever happens now, the balance of the world is at stake. Zuko shapes the flame and bows to his uncle who ignores courtly etiquette in favor of pulling him into another hug which Zuko easily accepts. Their departure is bittersweet. Zuko hadn't expected to see his uncle again and now that they'd been reunited he was loathe to leave, but he knows he must as they set off for the heart of the Fire Nation... for home.


End file.
